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mtA in 



BY 

FRANZ HOFFMANN. 


tlue (Setmnn, 


BY 

MRS. M. A. MANDERSON. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION. 
1870. 


^ 0-12 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the 
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States in 
and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


8TBRE0TYPED BY J. FAGAN & SON, PHILADELPHIA. 





CAXTON PRESS OF 
SHERMAN & CO., PHILADELPHIA. 



The Jura 9 

CHAPTER II. 


Jacques 


. 20 

CHAPTER HI. 

The First Day in the Chalet . 


• 39 

CHAPTER IV. 

Under the Snow 


. 48 

CHAPTER V. 

The Life of the Captives . 


. 69 

CHAPTER VI. 

Wolves ....... 


. 87 


CHAPTER VII. 


The Bitter Cup 


107 





BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE JURA. 

many of my readers the following 
arrative may perhaps appear improb- 
able, if not altogether impossible; and yet 
the incidents I shall relate in these pages, in 
their main points actually occurred. Those 
who have visited the Jura Mountains, who 
from experience know the wild and inhos- 
pitable aspect its heights assume during the 
winter, and have encountered one of its ter- 
rific storms of snow, will not for a moment 
doubt the truth of my story, remarkable 



9 


10 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


though it may be. These storms are, at 
times, of such fearful and appalling fierce- 
ness as the dwellers in plain and valley can- 
not appreciate. In Alpine language they 
are called tourmentes^ and truly they deserve 
the name. 

The Jura is a range of mountains of a 
peculiar limestone formation, extending from 
the angle formed by the Rhone and the Ain, 
in a north-easterly direction, for more than 
four hundred and fifty miles, to the upper 
part of the source of the Main. The Rhone, 
breaking through it between Schaffhausen 
and Basle, divides it into two parts, the 
Swiss or French, and the German Jura: its 
loftiest peaks are the Pr^ des Marmiers, the 
Reculet, and the Grand -Colombier, all of 
which are between five and six thousand 
feet in height. Between these and other 
mighty summits lie rocky ravines, and 
countless valleys, varying in their degree of 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


II 


richness and fertility. The higher the sum- 
mits of these mountains the more sterile 
and desolate is the region, the more bitter 
and severe the cold, and the shorter the 
summer. 

Upon some of the highest peaks the snow 
remains the entire year. The Jura, during 
the warm season, possesses a rapid and vig- 
orous vegetation, which preserves its fresh- 
ness and beauty until the snow spreads its 
white pall over meadow and glen. The val- 
leys and mountain -sides are clothed with 
forests of oak, beech, and pine, while above 
lie green meadows, where the “slopes of 
short grass, interspersed with wild thyme 
and delicate, small flowers,” afford grazing 
for large herds of cattle. This beautiful sea- 
son lasts only about five months in the year, 
beginning with the last of May, and ending 
with the first days of October ; when Winter, 
with stern, savage grandeur, and rough, 


12 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


unrelenting hand, commences his cheerless 
reign. 

It is truly a delightful time for the poor 
mountaineer, when, after the long, dreary 
season, the gentle southern breezes again 
move over the mountains, melting with soft, 
mild breath the snow upon the summits and 
declivities, causing thousands of brooks and 
streams to rush swiftly and rejoicingly down 
the rocky walls into the valley below. Grad- 
ually the fresh verdure of spring sprouts 
from the bosom of the earth ; then does the 
herdsman, with joy, open his stall, and re- 
lease his long-prisoned cows and goats, 
which appear to inhale with delight the 
fresh, fragrant air; and he leads them cheer- 
fully lowing and bleating out of the valleys, 
upon the broad upland pastures, where in 
luxuriant fulness grows the rich, sweet 
food. The wise creatures patiently mount 
the steep, rough mountain-path, well know- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


13 


ing the pleasure in reserve for them after the 
toil. 

The day of the departure is a holiday for 
all the dwellers of the valleys, even though 
to the herdsman it is a period of banishment 
from the comforts of home, and a separation 
from wife and children. Upon the alma 
await him no leisure hours ; the summer is 
not for him a time of recreation and indo- 
lence ; he must labor hard, and endure many 
and severe privations : his nourishment con- 
sists almost entirely of a milk diet, varied 
occasionally with potatoes; his occupation, 
of tending his herd, and the making of those 
famous Gruyere cheeses, and others of an 
inferior kind: these are prepared with ex- 
ceeding labor and care, and with the most 
scrupulous cleanliness. Every herdsman has 
up in the mountain his chalet, which serves 
him at the same time for a dwelling and a 
dairy. These chalets are constructed firmly 


14 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


and substantially of stone, roofed with small 
planks of pine : heavy stones are laid in rows 
upon them, to protect them from being torn 
away by the violent storms to which these re- 
gions are subject. The interior of these cha- 
lets are divided into three apartments : the 
well-enclosed stable, where the cattle are 
lodged at night; a dairy, furnished with its 
clean, broad wooden bowls ; and a kitchen, 
which serves the poor herdsman at the same 
time as a sleeping apartment, his couch gen- 
erally being a bed of straw. In the kitchen is 
an enormous chimney, in which hangs a great 
caldron, used for heating the milk and con- 
verting it into cheese. 

The period of their sojourn is generally 
the entire summer, during which time they 
seldom see any one except an occasional 
traveller, to whom they extend heartily such 
hospitality as it is in their power to bestow, 
refreshing him with a drink of their cool. 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


15 


sweet milk, or providing a resting-place after 
his arduous ascent. Notwithstanding all 
the deprivations to which this life is sub- 
ject, the laborious work, and isolation from 
human companionship, the herdsmen not 
only submit patiently to their lot, but they 
love, and cling almost with veneration to 
this ancient custom of their fathers : no toil, 
no privation could induce them to forego 
this solitary mountain sojourn. 

The season ends with the 9th of October, 
St. Denis’s Day : then the herdsman descends 
from the mountain, and the day of his re- 
turn to his family is celebrated as a holiday 
— a more joyous one than the day of his de- 
parture. And now a new life commences 
with the early autumn: the poor villagers 
are unable to lead an idle life, but industri- 
ously use every moment when not otherwise 
employed, in carving all kinds of household 
utensils and fancy articles out of wood. 


l6 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

which they dispose of, not only in the large 
towns in their immediate neighborhood, and 
to tourists, but which are also exported in 
large quantities to all parts of the world: 
some of these carvings are of exquisite 
workmanship, and form the chief winter 
occupation of the villagers, and sometimes 
almost their sole resource. 

While the adults are thus industriously 
employed, the children are not suffered to 
pass their days in idleness. Among these 
simple mountaineers, there is considerable 
intelligence; in some of the cantons reading 
is universal ; “ it is penal for a father to allow 
his child to grow up without education, and 
inspectors go round from time to time to 
ascertain if the children can read and write.” 
Schools abound, but sometimes the cottages 
of the villagers are so widely separated, that 
during the heavy snow-storms it is impossi- 
ble for the children to go to school, and at 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 1/ 

such times they are obliged to study their 
lessons at home. It is rare to find a child 
twelve years old who cannot both read and 
write. Their long winter evenings are 
shortened and cheered by the reading aloud 
of some pleasant, instructive book by one 
of the elder children, while the rest of the 
family carry on their various employments. 
These books are obtained, generally, from 
the pastor, or from the school-master of the 
village; and never, perhaps, is reading lis- 
tened to more intently, or does it excite 
such deep interest, as in these lowly chalets, 
when the little family surround the great, 
rough oaken table, and, by the glimmer of 
the solitary lamp, ply their busy fingers. 
After the reading, follows, generally, a pleas- 
ant talk over the contents of the book just 
read, the parents embracing this opportu- 
nity for conveying counsel and instruction : 
many a godly and beautiful lecture, full of 
2 * B 


l8 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

deep and vital piety, is delivered by the father 
of the household. Then, also, amusements 
of various kinds are devised by the parents, 
and entered into with great zest by the chil- 
dren, bringing merriment and enjoyment, 
and but seldom rudeness or disturbance. 
The habits and customs of these secluded 
villagers are innocent and healthful; their 
life of deprivation and hardship gives them 
power of endurance in the hardest situations 
of life, while their purity and unswerving de- 
votion to their faith is now, as it has ever 
been, their most marked characteristic. 

The fastnesses of these mountains ‘‘have 
served as a retreat for the truth, when nearly 
the whole world was shrouded in darkness ; 
the blood of many martyrs has bedewed its 
rocks,” and its deep caverns have resounded 
with songs of praise : these memories tend 
still to elevate the souls of these simple 
mountaineers, and inspire them with con- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


19 


tinually renewed zeal in the maintenance and 
preservation of their most holy faith. 

“ Free as the chamois on their mountain’s side. 

Firm as the rocks which hem their valley in, 

They keep the faith for which their fathers fought: 
They fear their God, nor fear they aught beside.” 




CHAPTER II. 

JACQUES. 

the most secluded and inaccessible 
valley of the Jura Mountains, there 
lay a quaint, straggling village, in one of 
whose lowly chalets lived the hero of this 
true story. The family was not large, con- 
sisting only of the father and grandfather of 
Jacques Lopraz, a lad of some thirteen years, 
himself, and his two younger sisters. Their 
life did not vary from that of the rest of the 
dwellers in the valley : in the summer the 
father ascended with his little herd to the 
upland pastures, with their swelling mounds 
of verdure, tending his cattle throughout the 
long, lonely days, and preparing the great 
cheeses, with which treasures he returned to 


20 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


21 


his sheltered home early in the autumn, 
when the rough wind made known that 
stern Winter, with his fearful storms, and 
masses of snow, drew nigh. 

For many years, until God called her to 
himself, did the mother of this little house- 
hold, while the father tended his herd upon 
the mountain height, labor industriously in 
the little chalet and garden, and bring up 
her children in the fear of God ; but now, 
these duties devolved upon the aged, white- 
haired sire of Frangois Lopraz : in his spare 
moments the old man labored to increase 
the scanty store of the household by carv- 
ing plates and spoons, or such articles as re- 
quired but little delicacy of sight or touch. 
In his youth he had been one of the most 
skilful wood-carvers in all the valley. 

During the winter, the little family would 
gather in the neat, cosy room, and as father 
and grandfather carved patiently and dili- 


22 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


gently with knife and chisel, the mother 
industriously plied the humming spinning- 
wheel, while the little ones sat with book 
and slate Jacques meanwhile rendering 
them assistance, until, their tasks being 
ended, they read aloud, in turn, from some 
entertaining or instructive book, to which 
the serious parents listened attentively, as 
well as the merry children; and many a good 
and pious lesson did the venerable grandsire 
weave into the quiet, pleasant evenings, 
which influenced in after days the lives of 
these little ones. In such employments and 
pleasures, the long winter evenings would 
pass away so quickly that all would look up 
in astonishment when the cuckoo in the old 
house-clock called, with clear, shrill notes, 
the hour of rest. 

For many years the little family had led 
this life, each summer and each winter 
bringing similar occupations and pleasures, 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


23 


no change ever varying its monotony, until 
the event which I shall now record in these 
pages took place. 

The mild summer had taken leave of the 
valleys of the Jura, St. Denis’s Day was 
over, the herds with their keepers had come 
down from the mountain, and yet Jacques’s 
father had not made his appearance. Day 
after day passed, and they listened in vain 
for the cheerful bleating of the goats and 
lowing of the cows, with which they always 
greeted the well -remembered stall — many 
times had Jacques and his sisters sought the 
hill from whose summit they could see far 
in the distance, but never did their anxious 
gaze discover aught of the stalwart form of 
their father, the brown cows, or the sportive 
goats. 

*‘What could possibly detain him?” This 
question was asked again and again, until, at 
length, their troubled, anxious hearts sug- 


24 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


gested : “ Perchance, some misfortune has 
befallen him ! ” 

And now, Jacques, in alarm, inquired 
among the neighboring herdsmen, but could 
receive no satisfactory information, although 
none saw cause for uneasiness ; comforting 
him with the suggestion that perhaps he 
had remained a little later upon the moun- 
tain, so as to gather more hay for the winter. 

Nothing can happen to him upon the 
heights,” said they, kindly ; “ wait a few days 
longer, and he will certainly return ! ” 

Patiently they waited, and yet he came 
not; at length, the old grandfather, who, 
until now, had been the most tranquil, and 
had exhorted the rest to composure, began 
to feel no little solicitude. 

“This suspense has lasted too long,” said 
he, one morning, as Jacques returned from 
the hill, after another vain search for herd 
and herdsman. “ I will myself ascend to 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 2$ 

the alma, and find out what is the matter 
with Francois. To be sure, I have not at- 
tempted the ascent for two years, but it will 
not be impossible for me to accomplish it. 
Yes, I will go, my son, and be glad to refresh 
my old eyes with a glimpse of the dear 
chalet once more : who knows whether I will 
feel able to visit it next summer? Would you 
not like to go with me, Jacques, and surprise 
your father ? ” 

“Indeed I would, grandfather,” answered 
the boy, without hesitation, and with spark- 
ling eyes. “ I have longed to mention it, and 
only refrained from asking, for fear of a 
refusal. But, to go together, that will be 
pleasant indeed.” 

The preparations for the journey were soon 
made ; the sky was beautifully clear, the air 
pure and calm, as they left their sheltered, 
peaceful valley, and, with slow and labored 
*step, mounted the steep, rough path — now 


3 


26 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


along a narrow gorge, anon skirting the brink 
of some yawning gulf, ever surrounded by 
danger, which required their utmost caution 
and circumspection to avoid. Unfortunately, 
the lad for a moment forgot his prudence, 
and thoughtlessly advanced to the very brink 
of a steep precipice: it was about a quarter of 
a league’s distance from the chalet: his grand- 
father, alarmed at his daring, sprang forward 
to pull him back; in his anxiety and haste, 
he stumbled upon a large, loose stone, and 
falling, sprained his foot so severely, that it 
was some time before he recovered suffi- 
ciently to proceed. Jacques, full of fright at 
the accident, hastened to his grandfather, 
and assisted him to rise : while tenderly sup- 
porting him, the repentant lad begged for- 
giveness for his thoughtlessness. Hoping 
that no bad consequences would ensue, they 
again set out, and the old man was enabled, 
by the help of his stout alpenstock, and by ' 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


27 


leaning upon the shoulder of his grandson, 
to reach the chalet. 

They were no little rejoiced when they 
saw Jacques’s father, in good health, and, 
even at the moment they drew near, en- 
gaged in preparations for his departure : had 
they waited one day longer, his arrival would 
have ended their suspense, and spared them 
the trouble of the steep, arduous ascent. 

Fran9ois was no less astonished at the un- 
expected visit. Father ! Jacques! ” cried he, 
as he saw them approach, “ you surely must 
have feared that some accident had hap- 
pened me upon the mountain.” 

“We certainly did,” replied the old man; 
“ and not without some foundation, Francois, 
for St. Denis’s Day is long past, and all the 
rest of our herdsmen have returned to the 
valley. What has detained you so long, my 
son ? ” 

“One of the cows was sick, father, and I 


28 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


could not leave the poor creature suffering,” 
answered Frangois. “ But now she is re- 
covered, and to-day Pierre is to set off with 
the cheeses, and I will take the herd down 
to-morrow.” 

” Then our visit was quite unnecessary,” 
said the old man ; “ however, that is of no 
consequence, if only falling weather come 
not to-night : the wind has changed during 
the last half-hour, and the look of the sky 
does not reassure me. Are you very tired, 
Jacques ? ” 

The lad hesitated, for he perceived a pecu- 
liar significance in the question. 

“ I was thinking,” continued he, as Jacques 
confusedly bent his eyes to the ground — “I 
was thinking it would be the most prudent 
course to send the boy on with Pierre, in 
case it should rain or snow to - morrow. 
What think you, Francois?” 

The herdsman cast a scrutinizing glance 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


29 


toward the remote mountain-tops, and with 
some solicitude expressed the same fear. 

“You are right, father,” said he; “the sky 
looks threatening, and all signs indicate a 
sudden change of the weather. I have been 
so busy with my preparations, that I have 
not observed it until now. You had much 
better return with Pierre, Jacques.” 

“ I will accompany them,” added the 
grandfather; “it will require considerable 
exertion for me to do so, but I think it will 
be best; it will be necessary for me to rest a 
short time, however, before I start.” 

But the weak old man had already over- 
tasked his strength : in an hour’s time, the 
pain in his injured foot had increased con- 
siderably, and he was obliged, not without a 
painful struggle, to acknowledge that he was 
unable to make the attempt. He insisted, 
however, that Jacques should go without 
him ; but the boy was unwilling to leave his 


3 


30 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


grandfather, and it was at last resolved that 
they would remain during that night in the 
chalet, and all go down together, the next 
morning, into the valley. 

Small as the chalet was, there was room for 
all. Frangois prepared a frugal evening meal, 
of maize, flour, and milk, in the boiler which 
hung in the enormous chimney: this, to- 
gether with butter and cheese, they partook 
of, with appetites sharpened by their tire- 
some ascent. Supper over, the wearied boy, 
after a short but earnest thanksgiving to 
God for the care and protection of the past 
day, threw himself down upon the straw 
bed, in a corner of the chalet, and was soon 
fast asleep; while his father and grandfather 
conversed in an undertone for a long time, 
relating to each other all that had occurred 
of interest during the past summer, down in 
the valley, and above upon the mountain-top. 
At length, they too laid themselves down in 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


31 


peace, and slept until the eye of morning 
peeped in at the window of the little chalet. 

Upon looking out, they were disappointed 
and alarmed, although not altogether sur- 
prised, to see the mountain covered with 
snow, and the white flakes still falling fast, 
which violent gusts of wind whirled in thick 
eddies past the chalet. 

“Should this storm not soon abate, Fran- 
cois,” said the old man, with much solicitude, 
“ it will be impossible to reach our home in 
the valley: every path will be choked up by 
the snow.” 

“ It may not last, father,” replied his son ; 
“it is yet early in the season ; at all events 
we will be obliged to wait, for in this storm 
of wind and snow, you, at least, must not 
leave the chalet.” 

“ Do not trouble yourself about me, my 
son, but do you and Jacques leave before 
the snow is deeper. My lame foot has swol- 


32 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


len so much more, and pains me to such an 
extent, that I fear I shall be obliged to re- 
main here several days longer. You go, my 
children, go while there is still time. The 
herd must be placed in safety; to-day, Fran- 
cois, you may take them down without dan- 
ger, while to-morrow may prove too late. Do 
not give yourself any uneasiness about me.” 

“ No ! oh, no, father, I could not leave you 
alone, sick and helpless,” replied his son. 
“ Why can we not all go together? My shoul- 
ders are strong enough to carry you, father, 
and Jacques can drive the herd : in this way, 
with the help of the dear God, we will reach 
the valley without accident.” 

But the old man persisted in his resolu- 
tion. “You know not what you promise, 
my son,” said he. “ In such weather it will be 
almost impossible to hold the cattle together; 
how then, if you should be burdened with one 
so helpless as I. Think of your boy, Frangois. 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 33 

Delay not, but place the herd and Jacques 
in security, while it lies within your power; 
and then, to-morrow, you and some of our 
neighbors can return and care for me.” 

Francois was still irresolute: the storm 
without, howled and raved furiously, driving 
before it fresh clouds of snow, which short- 
ly would render the descent impracticable. 
Upon the preservation of his herd de- 
pended the maintenance of his family: a 
speedy abatement of the storm could not be 
counted upon. It was truly a sad and painful 
position : on one side, the loss of his sole 
possessions; on the other, the desertion, if 
only for a day, of his helpless father, upon 
this rough, inhospitable height: he could 
not leave him. Again he insisted that the 
old man should trust himself to his strong 
shoulders; but no persuasions could tempt 
him to expose his son and grandson to dan- 
ger, by becoming a burden to them. 


34 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


In these friendly altercations passed sev- 
eral hours of the day, when Jacques made 
a proposal which brought them to a de- 
cision. 

“ Let me remain with grandfather, in the 
chalet, and you, father, take the herd down 
the mountain ; you will reach home much 
sooner than with either of us, and then you 
can come back with our neighbors for us ; 
grandfather will not be so lonely, and I can 
wait upon him : it was through my thought- 
lessness that this misfortune has come upon 
us, and now I have an opportunity of show- 
ing him that I am truly sorry, and can thus 
prove my love for him. Go, father, go : why 
do you hesitate ? ‘ God, even our own God, 
will be with us.’ ” 

“The child is right, Frangois ; his plan is 
the wisest and best: the snow is already so 
deep, and the wind so fearful, that I fear the 
danger would be greater, did he accompany 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


35 


you, than were he to remain with me in the 
chalet. Go, my son, delay no longer: take 
with you my stick; it is strong, and the iron 
point is new and firm ; it will help you down, 
as it has helped me up; leave with us one 
goat and the provisions which remain. I feel 
more anxiety about you, than about Jacques 
and myself.” 

For some moments Frangois stood silent 
and undecided, until at length, feeling con- 
vinced that further opposition would only 
increase the evil, he determined, hard though 
it was, to leave his dear ones in the lonely, 
yet at least sheltered chalet. 

“So be it, then,” said he, while he tear- 
fully embraced the brave old man. “We have 
lost one opportunity, by not going down 
with Pierre, and I must endeavor to remedy 
the neglect if possible. I will at once, upon 
my descent, summon the neighbors, and with 
their aid, and the blessing of the good God, 


36 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

will rescue you right speedily from your 
perilous situation.” 

‘'God help you, my son,” replied the aged 
man, with a sweet expression of quiet repose. 
“ Go in peace, my son, and may the grace of 
our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.” 

Francois had turned to leave the chalet, 
but hastily drawing from his pocket a small 
flask, covered with fine wicker-work, and half- 
filled with wine, he handed it to his father, 
saying : 

“Take this, father; the dear mother gave it 
to me last summer, when I came up the 
mountain. I need it not, and it may perhaps 
prove of service to you : take it as a gift from 
the sainted one. And now — farewell ! ” 

For the last time he embraced his father, 
then hastened to drive the herd out of the 
stable, Jacques following to render him as- 
sistance. The cattle appeared to be surprised 
when they found the ground covered with 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 3/ 

snow: they stood for a moment dismayed 
and confused, but the well-known call of the 
herdsman soon brought them in motion, and 
knowing they were going home, they sport- 
ively ran hither and thither around the little 
chalet, causing him some trouble in bringing 
them together again; that accomplished, the 
father once more kissed his boy and pressed 
him tenderly to his heart. 

“ God protect you both. Watch over thy 
grandfather as carefully and lovingly as thou 
canst, and be not too solicitous about the 
future : if God grant that I reach our home 
in safety, thou wilt, in a few days at farthest, 
be relieved : be patient, courageous, and hope- 
ful, my son; God have thee in his gracious 
keeping.” 

“And you too, father,” sobbed the boy, 
while he broke out into tears, and pressed a 
farewell kiss upon his parent’s lips. 

Francois gently withdrew himself from 


4 


38 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

the child’s embrace, and herd and herdsman 
disappeared amid the whirling clouds of 
snow. Jacques sought in vain to penetrate 
the thick, flaky veil ; a last call of farewell 
reached his listening ear, faintly, above the 
wild bowlings of the tempest, and now 
every trace of his father had disappeared, 
and the boy stood alone, upon the bleak, 
desolate mountain summit, swaying in the 
howling blast, and his tender form enveloped 
in a soft, white garment of snow. 

God protect you, father,” whispered the 
lad, “ you and us. Ah ! would we dare fol- 
low.” One imploring look he cast toward the 
dark, shrouded heavens; then, with a power- 
ful eflbrt repressing his painful emotions, he 
entered the chalet, and busied himself with 
the tenderest care for his loved and helpless 
grandfather. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE FIRST DAY IN THE CHALET. 

Jacques entered, he saw the old man 
standing beside the window, from 
which he had been gazing after his son. He 
leaned his venerable, gray head upon the 
sill, while with folded hands, and with eyes 
raised to heaven, his lips moved as though 
engaged in prayer. Jacques’s tears broke 
forth afresh at the sorrowful, touching sight: 
sinking at his grandfather’s feet, he pressed 
his hot lips upon the dear hands. “He has 
gone, grandfather,” said he, “ and God alone 
knows if we shall ever see him again ! ” 

“We can pray for him, my child, and 
commend him to the protection of the 
Lord,” answered the old man, in gentle, 


39 



40 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


comforting tones, as he laid his trembling 
hand upon the head of the lad. “ Our case 
is sad, my son, but, in just such a situation 
is it meet for us to set our whole confidence 
upon God. Hearken to the teachings of our 
blessed Lord : ‘ Are not five sparrows sold 
for two farthings, and not one of them is 
forgotten before God? But even the very 
hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear 
not, therefore, ye are of more value than 
many sparrows.’ Comfort thyself with these 
precious words, my child, and pray from thy 
heart that God, for Christ’s sake, will give 
thee peace, that perfect peace he has prom- 
ised to bestow upon all that call upon him in 
spirit and in truth. Be still, my son, weep 
not, but rest assured that our kind Heavenly 
Father will make all these things work to- 
gether for our good.” 

Jacques’s tears ceased gradually to flow, 
and his sobs were less violent, yet he raised 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


41 


not his head, but nestled still closer to the 
old man’s side. For a long, long time they 
remained in this position, in perfect silence ; 
while without, the wind roared and beat with 
fury against the little chalet, thick clouds of 
snow darkened the air, and at last, suddenly 
the deep darkness of night shrouded them, 
although the old wooden clock in the corner 
of the chalet had only just struck three. 

‘‘ Three o’clock,” said the old man, break- 
ing the long silence. “God be thanked, 
Frangois must by this time have reached the 
shelter of the pine-wood; else he would not 
be able to struggle against the terrific vio- 
lence of this tempest. He must certainly be 
so far down at least, and this hurricane can 
now do him no harm. But his poor heart 
will be heavy for us, Jacques.” 

The lad sighed, but replied not, while he 
prayed fervently for his struggling father. 
The violence of the storm increased from 


4 


42 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


hour to hour, and its wild roaring, howling, 
and whistling made the heart of the boy 
tremble within him. The little window 
shook and rattled as the showers of snow 
and hail were whirled wildly against the 
panes. 

Jacques and his grandfather had been so 
anxiously solicitous the entire day as to for- 
get even hunger and thirst, until the bleating 
of the goat reminded them that a third living 
creature, helpless as themselves, was impris- 
oned in the little chalet. 

^'Poor Blanchette,” said the old man, *‘we 
have been so absorbed with our own cares, 
that we have entirely forgotten her : she is 
calling us to come and milk her. Light the 
lamp, my boy, so that we may find our way 
to the stall.” 

As the light illumined the bare walls of 
the little kitchen, Jacques cast a hasty glance 
upon the face of his grandfather, and saw 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 43 

with comfort, and even pleasure, that it wore 
a look of quiet composure. As his eyes met 
his grandson’s anxious gaze, the old man 
smiled sweetly and fondly upon him, the 
light of which smile infused somewhat of the 
peace and tranquillity of his soul into the 
desponding heart of the poor boy. At that 
very moment a fresh and still more vehe- 
ment gust of wind forced its way under the 
planks of the roof, shaking them fearfully, 
until it seemed as though the roof must be 
carried away. Involuntarily the lad cast up- 
ward a look of anxiety. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, my child,” said his 
grandfather, as he observed the glance; “the 
roof and the little chalet have resisted many 
such storms: you forget that the planks are 
held firm by good, strong stays and heavy 
stones; then too, the roof is so flat that it 
affords very little hold to the wind : go on, 
Jacques, that we may milk poor Blanchette.” 


44 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


As the goat saw them, she redoubled her 
bleatings, and seemed almost beside herself 
for joy, tugging at her rope as though she 
would break it to get at them. Jacques 
stroked her caressingly, giving her at the 
same time a handful of salt, which she licked 
greedily. She gave them a large bowl of 
milk, which the boy and his grandfather re- 
garded with much satisfaction, for they had 
eaten nothing the entire day. 

We must take good care of Blanchette,” 
said the old man, as they returned to the 
kitchen ; “ we dare never neglect to feed or 
milk her, for our lives may depend, perhaps, 
upon hers.” 

“You terrify me, grandfather: you surely 
do not fear that we will be compelled to re- 
main here at the furthest more than a few 
days.” 

“ Who can tell ? ” replied his grandfather, 
“we may, perchance, to-morrow, or next 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


45 


day, be released from our imprisonment; yet 
it may be that weeks elapse before we see 
our home in the valley. It is well to be 
always prepared for the worst. You both see 
and hear, child, that the storm has not abated, 
but that the snow penetrates even into our 
place of refuge.” 

They were seated beside the fire, which, 
although the chimney was narrow above, 
had several times been almost extinguished 
by the flakes of snow that fell whirling 
down. Drawing themselves into the remotest 
corner of the room, to avoid the cold draught 
of air which also descended, the poor cap- 
tives sought to bear the discomforts of their 
painful situation with uncomplaining resigna- 
tion. At length, the grandfather, laying his 
hand gently upon the lad’s head, said : 

Jacques, my child, I fear we can only 
keep ourselves warm by going to bed ; the 
snow cannot penetrate our covering, and in 


46 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


our sleep the storm will not disturb us. To- 
morrow we will try to keep these persistent 
guests at a greater distance, and prepare 
more comfortable quarters. Come, my boy, 
let us commend ourselves to the watchful 
care and protection of our Heavenly Father; 
He is ever present, not only in the depths 
of the valley, but upon the mountain -top; 
and although the snow were a hundred times 
deeper, his eye would still rest upon us : even 
in this dreary, isolated chalet shall his 'right 
hand hold us ; yea, the darkness hideth not 
from thee, O Lord, but the night shineth as 
the day; the darkness and the light are both 
alike to thee.’ He sees our folded hands, 
my child, he hears our sighs. Did not our 
blessed Lord, also, pass the midnight hours 
alone upon the mountain-top, and think you 
he will not pity and care for us ? We will not 
fear, but will lie down and rest beneath the 
shadow of his wings.” 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


47 


Jacques kneeled beside his grandfather; 
and, strengthened and refreshed in spirit by 
waiting upon their God, they laid them down 
and slept in peace and safety, while without, 
the wind moaned and howled in its rage, and 
the snow chased in wild play around the lit- 
tle chalet. 




CHAPTER IV. 

UNDER THE SNOW. 

HEN Jacques awakened the next 
morning, he wondered not a little to 
find it was still dark, although he felt confi- 
dent that he had slept longer than usual ; but 
hearing his grandfather moving about the 
room, he rubbed his eyes in astonishment, 
but without seeing any clearer for that. 

Grandfather,” called he, “are you up, and 
the day not dawned? ” 

“You are mistaken, my son,” answered the 
old man. “ Did we wait until the morning 
light looks into our chalet, we would not 
rise at all. The sun, without doubt, has long 
ago risen ; our window is entirely blocked 
up.” 



48 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


49 


^‘Is it possible?” cried Jacques, springing 
out of bed and lighting the lamp to convince 
himself of the truth of the statement. “ I 
hope you are mistaken, grandfather; it is im- 
possible that so much snow could have fallen 
in one night.” 

“The window is not high, my lad,” said 
the old man ; “ and besides, it is probable 
that the wind has drifted the snow on this 
side of the chalet: should this prove the case, 
we need not be disturbed; it may not be 
more than two or three feet deep, except in 
this particular spot.” 

“They will come to-day, to free us from 
our imprisonment,” said the boy ; “ father is 
certainly on his way by this time.” 

“ I hope so, but do not be too sure, 
Jacques; the disappointment in case they do 
not come will be the more bitter. Our wisest 
course would be to reckon up our resources, 
in case we are detained here any length of 


5 


D 


50 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


time. But listen ; there cries our cuckoo : 
seven o’clock ! How fortunate it was I wound 
the clock yesterday evening ! We must never 
neglect it; should I forget it, be sure to re- 
mind me of it, my lad. But now let us see 
how deep the snow is before the window.” 

At that moment the plaintive bleatings 
of Blanchette fell upon their ears. 

“First, the poor goat; then, the snow. 
Jacques, she must be attended to.” While 
his grandfather was milking, the boy stood 
beside him watching him closely. 

“You are right, my child,” said he, as he 
noticed it. “ I would advise you to learn to 
milk, so that you may be able to fill my 
place, in case of necessity; my old limbs 
will scarcely bend to the task. Try, Jacques, 
and see what success you will meet with.” 

The boy kneeled down beside the goat, 
making at first an awkward and unsuccess- 
ful attempt, Blanchette kicking and wincing 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


51 


meanwhile, and almost overturning the bowl ; 
but after several trials it grew easier, and the 
goat stood quiet, giving, as she had done the 
night before, a large bowl of milk : Jacques 
carried it carefully to the kitchen, that not 
one drop of the precious liquid should be 
lost. 

Making their breakfast of the fresh, sweet 
milk, they turned their attention again to the 
fallen snow. The old man opened the win- 
dow a little, to see if they could measure 
from this point the depth of the snow-bank, 
but the attempt led to no satisfactory re- 
sults. Closing the window, they examined 
the opening of the chimney, to see whether 
they could not thus discover some way of 
procedure. 

Looking up through the outlet, Jacques 
exclaimed : I see the sky, grandfather ! ” 

At that moment the sun shone upon the 
snow that surrounded the opening, and they 


52 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


could easily judge the depth of the layer, as 
the chimney did not rise higher than the roof. 

“ How unfortunate that we have no lad- 
der!” said the grandfather; “you might as- 
cend, Jacques, and take a look around. If I 
remember aright, there must be a trap-door, 
with which the chimney can be closed, which 
would protect us from the cold and wet; 
your father placed it there, years ago, I 
think, when the chimney was out of repair. 
It would be a great convenience and protec- 
tion for us, were we able to open and close 
it at pleasure. But I see no possibility of 
your climbing up to the top.” 

“If the chimney were only a. little nar- 
rower, I would need no ladder,” said the 
boy. “Can you not contrive some plan, 
grandfather ? ” 

“We must try, my son, to light upon some 
expedient,” said the old man, reflectively. 
“ Can you climb well, Jacques ? ” 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 53 

“Certainly I can,” answered the boy; “my 
companions say I can climb better than any 
of them; but what good will that do us, 
grandfather ? ” 

“ I do not think we will need a ladder, my 
boy. I saw somewhere in the stable a long 
fir pole,” replied the old man. “If we could 
bring it here ! ” 

“That is all I want, grandfather,” said 
Jacques with delight; “if the pole is only 
long enough to reach above the opening, we 
have won the game.” 

They found the pole in the stable, as the 
old man had thought : it was not much thick- 
er than one’s arm, but the bark was still on, 
and the rough surface made it much easier 
to climb. With some difficulty they carried 
it into the kitchen and placed it in the chim- 
ney: this accomplished, and the pole proving 
long enough for the desired purpose, Jacques 
set to work, tying a string around his body. 


5 


54 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


to which was attached a shovel, so that he 
might draw it up after reaching the top: the 
lad managed so well with hands and feet, 
using the wall of the chimney as resting- 
points, that the grandfather saw, with no little 
satisfaction, that Jacques had not without 
some foundation boasted of his dexterity in 
climbing. It was but a few moments before 
the top was reached. Drawing up the shovel, 
he cleared away an open space, so that he 
might have a firm foot-hold. And, stepping 
upon the roof, he took a view of the sur- 
roundings : the snow lay about the depth of 
three feet upon the roof of the chalet, but, as 
his grandfather had thought, the wind had 
drifted it into a heap around the little build- 
ing, covering it almost entirely; but not 
only immediately around them lay the 
snow; an enormous mass must have fallen : 
as far as the eye of the boy could reach, 
everything was hidden under a glittering 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


55 


white mantle. The declivities far down to 
the fir-woods which skirted the valley, the 
hills far and near, the plains, abysses, and 
gorges, all were enveloped in one wide- 
spread covering : nothing interrupted the 
monotony of this winter landscape, save the 
black trunks of the firs ; some of the trees 
were almost crushed under their burden of 
snow, while large limbs had been rent away, 
and were protruding stiff and dark from the 
snowy mass. 

A cold and bitter north wind was blowing; 
the sky was covered with dark clouds, which 
the wind chased rapidly away. Through the 
openings, bright gleams of sunshine glanced 
here and there upon the field of snow — the 
glittering streaks gliding with the swiftness 
of an arrow over mountain and valley. 

Jacques enjoyed the view, and would, per- 
haps, have remained much longer, if the cold 
had not prevented: as he described to his 


56 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

grandfather what he saw, his teeth chattered 
with cold, so that the old man in alarm bade 
him to make haste and shovel the snow 
from the trap-door, and from around the 
aperture of the chimney. ‘‘ That will warm 
you up, my son : make haste.” 

Jacques came to the conclusion that it 
was better to shovel than freeze, and re- 
sumed his work; it took some time, and 
soon the drops of sweat rolled down his 
face from the arduous labor ; but at length 
it was accomplished, and a loud huzza 
made known to the grandfather his suc- 
cess. Jacques now passed the cord he 
had taken with him, through a pulley, so 
that when they would draw it from below, 
the trap would open, while its own weight 
would cause it to close. When they had 
tested this several times, and convinced 
themselves that all worked well, Jacques 
climbed again through the chimney, and 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


57 


descended with more ease than he had 
mounted. 

His grandfather now observed that his 
clothes were saturated by the melted snow, 
which was a serious matter, as he had no 
others. Some precaution must be taken to 
protect him against the cold ; so making a 
fire of brush and fir-cones upon the hearth, 
and drawing shut the trap-door, leaving only 
sufficient space for the smoke to escape, they 
seated themselves for the rest of the day be- 
side the great fire-place, watching the flick- 
ering flames, and listening to the howling 
blast. 

Their store of oil was so scanty that they 
did not dare to light the lamp, except for 
a few moments when they went to the stall 
to milk the goat. 

Jacques found it a dull and sad life, and 
it appeared to him as though the day had no 
end: the hours would have passed more 


58 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

rapidly, and proved less wearisome, had he 
been employed ; then, too, he was moment- 
arily expecting the arrival of his father for 
their rescue ; he was constantly in a state of 
painful agitation ; at every sound, at the 
roaring of the wind, the crackling of a spark, 
he would spring up, and listen intently, al- 
most persuading himself that he could dis- 
tinguish approaching footsteps ; several times 
during the day he ascended to the roof to 
look for the stalwart form of his father. In 
vain his grandfather sought to soothe this 
feverish restlessness ; he asked repeatedly 
whether his father had not long since 
reached home ; if he did not think he had 
called upon the neighbors for help. The 
poor old man, who, as ardently as his grand- 
son, desired their rescue, could only reply 
that he hoped Francois had reached the val- 
ley in safety, and if so, he felt assured that 
he would not lose a moment, and would 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


59 


spare no exertion to come to their relief. 

But the path, Jacques,” said he, “ may be 
so completely blocked up with snow, that 
it will not be possible to reach us for 
some time. We must only be patient, and 
wait.” 

But this suggestion brought no comfort to 
the restless lad. At last, his grandfather, 
rising, closed the chimney by the aid of the 
trap, so as to shut out the cold air; and after 
an earnest prayer for protection, and patience 
to endure the will of God without murmuring, 
and feeling assured that he would pity and 
care for them, for the sake of his only Son 
our Lord, who, when he was on earth, had 
not where to lay his head, he betook him- 
self to his hard couch, and persuaded Jacques 
to follow his example. His grandfather heard 
the poor, agitated lad sob for a long time, 
until blessed sleep, at last, put an end to the 
hopes and bitter disappointments of the day. 


6o 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


enfolding him lovingly under her soft, gen- 
tle wings. 

On the following morning, as Jacques tried 
to open the trap, he found it stubbornly re- 
sisted all his efforts. Calling upon his grand- 
father for assistance, they at last succeeded, 
after considerable difficulty, in forcing it 
aside ; they soon found out the cause : there 
had been another heavy storm during the 
night, and the boy found, when he clambered 
up, at least two feet of fresh snow. His 
grandfather, meanwhile, prepared to make a 
fire upon the hearth, and with some solicitude 
waited the descent of the lad. 

“ It is as I thought,” said he, with a sigh, 
as Jacques stated how matters stood. ‘‘The 
snow, which has drifted more and more, will 
not melt again, my child, before the spring, 
and will, without doubt, prove an insurmount- 
able barrier in the path of your father. We 
will have to accustom ourselves, I fear, to 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


6i 


the thought of remaining buried in this 
snow - bound chalet for weeks, ay, for 
months ! We must not flatter ourselves with 
delusive^’hopes, which, ‘long deferred, make 
the heart sick.’ Let us rather look upon the 
dark side, and pray God to grant us grace 
to say, as did our blessed Lord : ‘ Not my 
will, but thine be done.’ ” 

“ Do you really mean, grandfather, that 
this day too will pass away without help 
from our friends ? ” questioned the troubled, 
desponding lad. 

“ Impossible, altogether impossible for 
them to reach us,” he replied, with decision; 
“ yesterday I entertained only the slightest 
hope, and this morning I feel assured it is 
too late : the snow is at least two feet deeper, 
and must have drifted in such masses that 
no human strength could overcome the dif- 
ficulties of the ascent; they could not accom- 
plish it, my son. I will be thankful to God 
6 


62 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


if only your father reached the valley in 
safety, Jacques. To count upon his help 
would be folly : though he should call upon 
all the villages around, all arms would be 
powerless to make a path for us.’* 

The boy listened to his grandfather with 
greater composure than could have been 
expected. Some moments he stood with 
bowed head and clasped hands, plunged 
in deep thought, while the tears coursed 
rapidly down his pale cheeks ; then with 
sudden resolve summoning all his courage, 
he raised his head and wiped away the tears, 
while he said, in a voice that gathered firm- 
ness as he proceeded : 

“ If human help fail us, grandfather, we can 
lean upon the almighty arm of our God; and 
here is my hand that I will not again grieve 
you with my childish impatience, as I did 
yesterday. I will stand firmly by your side, 
and not one more complaint shall cross my 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


63 


lips while we are imprisoned in the chalet; 
and may God help me to keep my re- 
solve.” 

He will help you, my son,” said the old 
man, as he with emotion pressed the hand 
of the brave lad ; “ if you adhere to this de- 
termination, then, with the aid of our Heav- 
enly Father, all will be well. We are not 
entirely without resources, and if we use 
them economically they will last until the 
spring, and our release comes.” 

With such words, in this wise did the 
aged man infuse strength and courage into 
the drooping heart of his grandson. Several 
days elapsed without anything of import- 
ance taking place, except that the snow 
fell almost incessantly. Jacques, to relieve 
the monotony of their life, commenced, at 
his grandfather’s suggestion, a diary : he 
found a supply of paper, pens, and ink, 
which he had brought during the summer 


64 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


holidays upon a visit to his father, so as to 
pursue his tasks, and had forgotten to take 
them with him when he returned home, lit- 
tle thinking what a treasure they one day 
would prove. He wrote by the glow of the 
fire, and many an hour did he thus spend 
both pleasantly and profitably. 

One day, as Jacques and his grandfather 
sat by the fire, the kind old man having 
given to the boy some examples in arithme- 
tic to pass away the time — to save the little 
store of paper, Jacques had drawn some 
ashes from the hearth, and had strewed 
them in a thin layer upon its flat surface : 
this served him instead of a slate, while he 
marked the figures with a sharp - pointed 
stick. The lad had not been careful in 
spreading the ashes, and while both were 
engaged with an example, they suddenly 
felt an unusual degree of heat, and turning, 
they saw with affright that a bundle of straw 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 65 

which lay beside the ash - pile had ignited, 
and was burning rapidly. 

The venturous boy without a moment’s 
delay threw his arms around the straw, and 
endeavored in this manner to extinguish 
the flames : he was unable, however, to ac- 
complish his purpose, and both hands were 
burned in his eflbrts. 

His grandfather now hastily seized the 
burning mass, and, in spite of the danger 
and pain, carried it directly under the 
chimney. 

“ Jacques,” cried he, “ quick ! move to one 
side everything that can take fire.” 

The boy had soon thrown into the centre 
of the room the wooden stool and fuel which 
had been piled upon the hearth, and then 
hastened to render assistance to his grand- 
father. With the help of a pitch - fork and 
the shovel, they pressed the burning straw 
against the wall : a lurid glovy illuminated 
6 * E 


66 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


the little chalet, and the room was filled with 
smoke, which together with the heat was 
almost stifling. Filled with anxiety and 
terror, they struggled with the strength of 
despair against the flames, which threatened 
every moment to gain the mastery. Not a 
drop of water was at hand, no outlet for the 
smoke, but, in spite of the heat and smoke, 
they held the bundle firm until the most 
of it had been consumed. The bright sparks 
flew from one side of the chalet to the other, 
lighting now upon the straw bed in the 
corner, then upon the dry rafters of the ceil- 
ing, and upon the wooden partition that 
separated the stall from the kitchen : the 
eyes of the poor frightened captives fol- 
lowed them in their play, and it seemed as 
though hours must have elapsed before the 
flames gradually expired, and at last were 
entirely extinguished. 

When the last spark died out, and dense 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 6/ 

darkness reigned in place of the bright red 
glow, the first feeling of the alarmed pair — 
who were completely exhausted with terror 
and exertion — was one of thankfulness to- 
ward God, who in so wonderful a manner 
had protected them in the midst of such 
fearful danger. Gradually the stifling smoke 
vanished, and, lighting their lamp, they sat 
down in tolerable composure, and talked 
over their fears and their almost miraculous 
preservation. 

*^It was in a great measure our own fault,” 
said the old man to Jacques ; “ persons in 
our situation should have shown more fore- 
sight : if we had only had a bucket of water 
standing near, it would not have happened. 
Let this occurrence serve as a lesson for the 
future. Somewhere in the dairy I have seen 
an old empty cask : if we place it in the 
corner of the kitchen and fill it with snow, 
which would soon melt, then we would at 


68 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


least feel safe from a similar accident. Should 
our chalet burn down, even if we escaped 
the flames, it would inevitably result in our 
death, deprived as we would be of a shelter 
from the extreme cold, without food, and no 
prospect of ever reaching the valley. And 
now let us secure the cask without delay.” 

This work was soon accomplished: fasten- 
ing the bottom of the cask more securely, 
they had, in order to fill it, only to open the 
door of their chalet, and close against them 
rose a firm white wall of snow, a wall which 
inexorably separated them from all the rest 
of the world. The thought occurred to both, 
as with shovel in hand they went to work, 
with heavy hearts and eyes filled with tears, 
each striving to hide from the other the sad 
and painful thoughts with which they were 
oppressed. 



CHAPTER V. 


THE LIFE OF THE CAPTIVES. 

HE snow fell incessantly, day and 
night; and such masses accumulated 
upon the roof, that Jacques’s grandfather be- 
came seriously troubled. 

“ The weight will prove too heavy,” said 
he. “ I fear the rafters will give way, if we 
do not find some way of relieving it of its 
load.” 

“ That can be done without much trouble, 
grandfather,” replied the boy, as he actively 
ascended to the trap, drawing after him the 
shovel, as usual. For several hours he 
worked, in order to clear the roof of a por- 
tion of the snow with which it was laden, 

69 



70 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


leaving only a layer sufficiently thick to pro- 
tect them from the cold. 

This employment, although so arduous, 
served as an amusement, varying in some 
degree the wearisome monotony of his life 
inside the chalet; and yet the view from the 
roof, extended though it was, presented to 
the eye or heart of the poor boy no comfort: 
it was a bleak, cheerless scene. The snow 
covered the ground in such enormous masses 
as scarcely to leave any of the inequalities 
distinguishable. The sky hung dark and 
heavy over the dreary landscape, and Jacques 
thought, as he gazed, of stories he had heard 
of voyagers in the ice-bound seas of the po- 
lar regions: sighing, he turned and de- 
scended the chimney, feeling he would rather 
endure the confinement of the narrow limits 
of the chalet than gaze longer upon the ex- 
panded but soul -depressing view of this 
bleak, desolate scene. 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


71 


His grandfather observed his dejected 
mood, and at once sought to devise some 
amusement to divert his sad thoughts. An 
inventory of their resources was speedily in- 
stituted, and soon the boy was busily en- 
gaged in searching every nook and corner 
of the chalet. The solitary little dwelling 
was not destitute of every comfort; they 
found hay and straw, more than Blanchette 
would consume during a whole year. Should 
she continue to yield them milk, they had in 
her an invaluable resource; but an accident 
might deprive them, at any time, of this sup- 
port: they were therefore delighted to find in 
a corner of the stall a little store of potatoes, 
which they carefully covered with straw, to 
protect them from the cold. They also 
found in the stable a quantity of wood, 
though not sufficient to last during the win- 
ter, should their captivity continue so long. 
It was resolved to make use of it only in 


72 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


their extreme necessity, and under all cir^ 
cumstances to keep the trap carefully closed, 
so that the warmth should not escape. The 
snow which surrounded the chalet contrib- 
uted, also, to keep them warm. 

Besides the wood, Jacques came across a 
heap of fir-cones, which he had collected the 
previous summer, and fortunately neglected 
to carry down to the valley: these would 
serve as an excellent substitute for fuel ; and 
should it be necessary, they could burn the 
hay-racks and the mangers in the stable; the 
old man saying : “ If the ship is in danger, 
the cargo must be cast into the sea.” On ac- 
count of the far advanced season, the chalet 
was partially unfurnished, the greater part 
of the effects having been taken down to 
the village. The great caldron had been 
left, a few cooking utensils, and some tools : 
the edge of the axe, to be sure, was notched 
and jagged, and the saw dull; but these were, 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 73 

in their situation, invaluable treasures : they 
had each, also, their pocket-knives. But it 
was much worse with the provisions: they 
found only three loaves of Westphalia rye 
bread, of the kind that can be kept for a 
year or longer, and which becomes so hard 
that it must be chopped up with an axe or 
hatchet. These were stowed away in an old 
oaken closet, where they discovered, besides, 
some salt, ground coffee, oil, and quite a 
quantity of lard — treasures which they, in 
their present situation, would not have ex- 
changed for their weight in gold. 

“ The lard will prove very acceptable to 
us,” said Jacques, as he placed it carefully in 
one of the drawers. 

“ It certainly will,” replied his grandfather, 
“but we dare not use it in our cooking: we 
must preserve it for the winter, for fear our 
small stock of oil runs out.” 

“That would be better, grandfather,” said 


7 


74 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


the boy ; “ it is too dreary to live in perpet- 
ual night.” And now the groping hand of 
the boy pulled out from behind the oaken 
closet an old, dusty book, quite covered 
with cobwebs, which must have lain there, 
forgotten, for many long years. The old 
man’s heart throbbed with joy as Jacques 
opened it, and read the title : Thomas k 
Kempis.” 

“ Oh ! my son,” he cried, as he heard the 
name, “ that is the best friend, except God’s 
Holy Book, that could visit us in our soli- 
tude ; a blessed treasure to all unhappy suf- 
ferers ; it teaches us that there is only one 
evil in this world of ours: ^to forget God;’ 
and only one source of happiness : ^ to love 
God.’ You see, my child, though solitary, 
we are not forsaken ; we have found many 
things to nourish the body; and now we 
possess, also, most precious nourishment for 
our souls: it will impart to us much com- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 75 

fort, strength, and encouragement. God be 
thanked for this proof of his love.’^ 

The rest of the day was passed in a fur- 
ther investigation, resulting, however, in no 
new discovery of importance ; but well satis- 
fied with their day’s work, they laid them- 
selves down to rest, their hearts filled with 
thankfulness toward God, who had so mani- 
festly exhibited his loving - kindness and 
watchful care for them. 

Upon awakening the next morning, they 
found the snow was still falling ; it was the 
27th day of November : even on the moun- 
tains, and during this season of the year, it 
was exceedingly rare to see so great a quan- 
tity of snow fall. The deeper the snow, the 
lower the hopes for release of the poor pris- 
oners. Jacques, who had always entertained 
a firm hope that his father could overcome 
all obstacles to effect their rescue, now sank 
into despondency. His grandfather saw the 


76 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

necessity of changing the current of his 
thoughts : employment, physical or mental, 
he knew would prove the most effectual 
method of effecting the desired result. Ex- 
erting himself to the utmost, he talked with 
him, giving him, sometimes, riddles and ex- 
amples which would require all his mind 
and memory to solve; and when he became 
weary of this employment, he would relate 
to him many pleasing incidents from the 
varied experiences of his long life, or from 
interesting books he had read: his manner 
was pleasing and instructive, and in this way 
many a good lesson was learned, as well as 
many an otherwise sorrowful hour passed 
pleasantly away. 

His grandfather, restoring the cheerfulness 
and serenity of the boy’s mind by these 
means, thought he might now call his atten- 
tion to a matter which, although painful, was 
necessitous and irremediable. As already 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 7/ 

stated, they possessed only a small stock of 
oil : if they continued to burn their lamp, as 
they hitherto had done, for twelve hours of 
the day, it would in all probability be con- 
sumed within one month’s time ; then they 
would necessarily be confined to a long pe- 
riod of total darkness, at least until deliver- 
ance came. That must be prevented if pos- 
sible, and the old man sorrowfully communi- 
cated the painful information to Jacques. The 
lad was startled, and shrank, at first, from the 
horrible thought of perpetual night: how 
could they give up the comforting, friendly 
light of their little lamp? But a short reflec- 
tion convinced him that his grandfather’s fear 
was well grounded, and a stricter economy 
in the use of the precious oil an imperative 
necessity. After mature deliberation, it was 
resolved that the lamp should only be 
burned during three hours, and that they 
would for the rest of the day be content 


7 


78 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


with the faint light of their little fire upon 
the hearth. Again was the old man obliged 
to exert himself to the utmost to cheer and 
shorten for the poor boy the long, long 
hours of darkness. As they had straw in 
plenty, he taught Jacques to weave cords 
and bands of the same, which were service- 
able for a variety of uses ; this employment 
they could carry on by the fire-light. 

With such occupations and amusements 
was ushered in the first day of December; 
the snow still fell, without intermission, un- 
til it was now level with the roof of the 
chalet, indeed even covering it, so that they 
were literally buried alive. Every morning 
must Jacques ascend the chimney, and clear 
away the snow, so as to be able to open the 
trap-door, to admit the fresh air, and make 
an outlet for the stifling smoke to escape 
when they made the fire. 

Our situation is not, to be sure, of the 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 79 

pleasantest/’ said his grandfather, one day, 
when the lad descended the chimney, look- 
ing more than usually depressed ; “ but our 
lot is less wretched than that of many 
prisoners who are as guiltless as we. We 
have fire, and, some hours in the day at least, 
light; we enjoy also a certain amount of 
liberty and amusement to vary our lives, 
which is unattainable within the four walls of 
many an unhappy cell. We dread not each 
day the entrance of a cruel, hard-hearted 
jailer ; and, beyond all, the sufferings which 
the inscrutable will of God lays upon us, are 
never so bitter and intolerable as those 
which we attribute to the injustice of man ; 
and lastly, my boy, we are not condemned 
to solitary confinement, but can cheer and 
comfort each other. I do not say that I 
would not far rather that you were in 
security at our home in the valley ; but as 
God has so willed it, I find in your presence 


So 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


an unceasing source of comfort and peace. 
Poor Blanchette, too, serves to make our 
imprisonment far less painful than it other- 
wise would be, and it would be a source of 
much sorrow did we lose her — not merely 
for the sake of the milk she gives us, but 
for the sake of her companionship.” 

‘‘You are right, grandfather,” said Jacques; 
“our fate is not altogether devoid of com- 
fort : you have often told me, and it is cer- 
tainly true, ‘ Shared joy is double joy, shared 
sorrow is half sorrow.’ Now, since you 
have called my attention to the thought, I see 
why Blanchette bleats so plaintively when 
we leave her alone in her stall every morn- 
ing and evening. The poor creature grieves 
sorely for company: what should prevent 
us from having her here with us? she can 
be placed in a corner of the kitchen; it 
is large enough for us three. She will be 
so happy to be with us ; and who knows if 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 8l 

she will not, in her thankfulness, give us 
more and richer milk. Shall I make a place 
for her, grandfather ? ” 

“ I do not object to the plan, my lad,” 
smilingly replied the old man ; but, on the 
contrary, think your idea most excellent.” 

Jacques waited only for the acquiescence 
of his grandfather; then, nailing a little man- 
ger against the wall with large wooden pegs, 
and supporting it with a few stakes, he hast- 
ened to the stall, and led Blanchette into 
her new home. 

It was truly affecting to witness the joy 
of the poor creature. She sprang around in 
her delight, bleating for pleasure, overwhelm- 
ing them with her stormy caresses, until they 
became almost burdensome. The grand- 
father, thinking she would in time become 
accustomed to her new position, indulged 
her, and at last she laid herself quietly down 
in her corner ; and from her large, soft eyes. 


F 


82 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


which were turned thankfully upon her bene- 
factors, beamed the intensity of the satisfac- 
tion she felt at the change. 

'‘You see already the result of one good 
work,” said his grandfather, smiling and 
pointing to Blanchette : “ there beats now, 
in our lonely little chalet, one happy heart 
at least.” 

Upon the 3d of December, as Jacques as- 
cended the chimney to shovel off the snow 
from the trap, he saw with joy that the 
storm had ceased, that the sky was clear and 
cloudless, and the air pure and cold. The 
extended white expanse of snow reflected 
the bright beams of the sun, and almost 
dazzled him as he gazed. He remained 
upon the roof longer than usual, enjoying 
the sunshine, and the wide view that opened 
before him. Thinking how pleasant it would 
be to share his joy with his grandfather, and 
how delighted he would be to catch even 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 83 

one ray of sunshine, the thought suddenly 
occurred to him : 

“ What if I should shovel away the snow 
from the door, and make a path upward to 
the surface of the drift ? ” 

Filled with this idea, he descended and 
communicated it to his grandfather, who 
feared the labor and exposure would prove 
too great ; but the sanguine lad would listen 
to no objections of this kind, and set to 
work at once. When he opened the door 
and looked upon the firm, frozen wall before 
him, the work did not appear quite so attain- 
able as the boy, in the first glow of his zeal, 
had believed; but the thought of rendering 
such a service, and opening a source of pleas- 
ure to his grandfather, stimulated him to 
exertion, and animated him with fresh cour- 
age and endurance: boldly he commenced 
his assault upon the formidable barrier. 

All day long the lad labored untiringly, 


84 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


and would have worked yet longer, had not 
his grandfather insisted upon his stopping 
for the time. The next morning, he set to 
afresh : it was hard toil, but he was convinced 
that labor and perseverance would accom- 
plish the desired result. His work pro- 
gressed slowly but surely ; fortunately for 
him, the snow was neither too firm to resist 
his efforts, nor too loose to render his work 
ineffectual. At length, upon the third day, the 
path was made, and Jacques had the pleasure 
of leading his grandfather out of the chalet 
into the pure, free air. Supported upon one 
side by the arm of his grandson, and upon 
the other by a railing, which Jacques had 
made out of consideration for the lame foot, 
the old man trod with pleasure the path 
which so much love and toil had made. 

The day was dark and gloomy and their 
joy was mingled with melancholy, as they 
reached the end of the avenue and contem- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 85 

plated the threatening sky; the snow sur- 
rounded them on all sides, and the dark 
trunks of the fir-trees. It was a bleak, 
dreary scene, upon which the silence of 
death seemed to brood; a cold, inanimate 
scene : nought disturbed its desolate monot- 
ony save a solitary bird of prey, which 
passed at some distance through the air, and, 
with a hoarse scream, darted down into the 
valley, flying in the direction of the village 
where the home of the poor captives lay. 

With a heavy sigh, the old man’s gaze fol- 
lowed its flight. *‘Our pagan ancestors,” 
said he, “ would have regarded the appear- 
ance of this bird of prey, his cry, and the 
direction of his flight, as ominous of good 
or evil, and it would have inspired either 
fear or hope. But we! will we ever again 
follow the direction this eagle has taken ? 
God alone knows, and he is too good and 
too, wise to raise the veil and disclose the 
8 


86 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


future to our eyes. Come, come, my dear 
boy, and let us await with patience and sub- 
mission what the Almighty has seen fit to 
hide from us. I thank you heartily for all the 
trouble you have taken for me; and another 
day I will, I trust, fully enjoy the result of 
so much love and labor.” 

They returned to the chalet after all their 
pleasant anticipations, sorrowful and de- 
pressed : for the rest of the day they were 
thoughtful and silent ; the peaceful serenity 
they had for some time enjoyed they could 
not recover. Constantly their thoughts re- 
verted to the valley, and they longed for 
the wings of a bird — then would they flee 
away and be at rest. 




CHAPTER VI. 

WOLVES. 

the following morning the poor 
prisoners had so far recovered from 
their depression as to be able to plan with 
some spirit and pleasure for their future 
comfort. Jacques’s grandfather proposed that 
they should free the window from the snow 
which blocked it up, and the boy went to 
work with vigor, although it was still harder 
than making the path through the snow: 
there he was only obliged to throw it to one 
side and the other, but from the window 
he must throw it upward, so as to afford 
ready entrance for the light. He would not 
suffer his grandfather to assist him, fearing 

87 


88 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


he might, by so doing, endanger his precious 
health. 

Instead of digging a tunnel, he now had 
to bore a pit or shaft in the snow. The work 
progressed but slowly. By the evening of 
the first day he had, although working hard 
and steadily, accomplished so little that he 
could scarcely hope to finish entirely before 
three or four days at the least. Upon the 
next day he went to work with renewed 
energy, and shovelled away with a zeal in 
which all prudence was forgotten. As he 
cast the snow out of the hole, he heaped it 
upon the upper edge, until it gradually 
formed a sort of wall : his grandfather 
warned him not to make it too high, fearing 
it might fall upon him ; but the lad in his 
excitement entirely forgot the warning, and 
the catastrophe happened that had been pre- 
dicted. The wall fell, and the poor boy’s 
work was not only destroyed, but he was 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


89 


buried under the mass. Managing to free 
his head quickly, he escaped a horrible 
death ; but all his strength failed to extri- 
cate himself further. After he had made 
many fruitless attempts, he called upon his 
grandfather for help. Providentially the fall- 
ing of the wall had made a breach, through 
which the old man, though with difficulty, 
forced his way, and shovelled the snow to 
one side. When Jacques had recovered the 
use of his arms, it was not long until he was 
freed from the cold embrace. 

“You see, my son, that even in the best 
of causes we must never lose sight of 
prudence,” said his grandfather, with gentle 
reproof. 

“ I have acted foolishly,” said Jacques, “very 
foolishly, but it will be a good lesson for 
me ; and to-morrow I will commence my 
work wiser than yesterday.” 

But when the lad .attempted to resume the 
8 * 


go 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


quickly interrupted task, he found that, for 
that day, the shovel must be laid aside. 
All day long the snow fell heavily, and 
the wind blew cold and fierce. Remain- 
ing within the chalet, he plaited his straw, 
milked the goat, and prepared their simple 
meals, hoping it would cease to snow during 
the night. 

Vain hope! Upon reaching his head out 
of the trap, he found the wind raging furi- 
ously ; the snow-flakes striking his face with 
such violence as almost to blind him. Draw- 
ing back quickly, he pulled the trap close 
and descended. 

“ What fearful weather I ” said he. It is 
worse than any we have yet experienced 
since our imprisonment.” 

Jacques had not yet learned what a hurri- 
cane upon the mountain was like. Notwith- 
standing the covering of snow with which 
the chalet was enveloped, the roaring and 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


91 


howling of the tempest penetrated within it, 
and filled the sinking heart of the boy with 
terror. Upon their attempting to open the 
door, the room was filled with clouds of 
snow, and the wind raged with such violence 
that they could only with the greatest dif- 
ficulty, and by their united strength, again 
close it. It was impossible to open the 
trap, for the wind rushed down howling like 
some terrific monster through the chimney, 
chasing clouds of snow before it. All must 
remain carefully closed, and in consequence 
our poor captives were forced to extinguish 
the fire upon the hearth, as the smoke had 
no outlet to escape. 

They sat for hours in total darkness, and 
listened with heavy hearts to the wild raging 
of the tempest. Jacques trembled with each 
repeated shock, and his grandfather could 
scarcely quiet his fears. In order to draw 
his attention from the weather, he assigned 


92 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


him various employments, and at last suc- 
ceeded in comforting him by speaking of 
the compassion and everlasting love of their 
God. 

“ ‘ Let not your heart be troubled, neither 
let it be afraid,’ my boy. The power that 
appears to-day so fearful, is unchangeably 
the same — merciful and gracious, while it 
threatens to desolate heaven and earth in 
its wrath : all this storm serves as a merciful 
messenger, which eternal wisdom has sent 
to call out of this seeming chaos a new 
creation. It heaps masses of snow upon 
our mountains, so that they, in the spring, as 
fertilizing streams and brooks, may pour 
down, and waken our meadows and our 
fields. Without this yearly preparation, the 
fertility which depends upon these masses 
of snow would be at an end, the fresh green 
grass would not sprout, no flowers would 
delight us with their fragrance and beauty. 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


93 


and our blessed valleys and fields would be 
transformed into sterile wastes. The same 
Power that ‘giveth snow like wool, that 
scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes, that 
casteth forth his ice like morsels, sendeth 
out his word and melteth them.’ Let us, 
my dear boy, ‘praise the name of the Lord, 
for he is good to all ; and his tender mer- 
cies are over all his works.’ Fear not, 
Jacques. 

“ ‘ Blind unbelief is sure to err, 

And scan His works in vain : 

God is His own interpreter, 

And He will make it plain.’ ” 

Jacques’s agitation was somewhat allayed 
through these calm, comforting words, when 
suddenly a powerful concussion shook the 
little chalet to its very foundations, and the 
door creaked and groaned as though it would 
break in pieces. The grandfather involun- 
tarily arose. 


94 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

‘‘What is that?” cried Jacques, in affright. 
“ Will our chalet be blown away ? ” 

“ I hope not, my child,” replied the old man, 
regaining his composure. “ Light the lamp, 
Jacques, and we will see what has hap- 
pened.”. 

The boy obeyed, and the grandfather, 
opening the door, found that an enormous 
mass of snow had fallen, and they were im- 
prisoned, as they had been before the tunnel 
had been dug. 

“ Grieve not, my lad, that your work has 
been destroyed, but think rather what would 
have happened to us if our chalet had not 
been snowed up : we are surrounded as by 
a protecting wall ; without it we could not 
have hoped our chalet to resist the shocks 
of the hurricane ; so this immense mass of 
snow, in which we are enveloped, has again 
proved to us a blessing, which calls for grati- 
tude to God, who has, by its shelter, pro- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 95 

tected US from great danger, if not from 
sudden death.” 

The storm lasted until night, and they 
laid themselves down upon their hard bed, 
and sought to rest after the exhausting fears 
and agitations of the day — quietly and 
trustingly confiding in the Keeper of Israel, 
who neither slumbers nor sleeps. 

The next morning, the violence of the 
storm having somewhat abated, they tried 
to open the trap, but it resisted all their 
efforts ; both window and door indicated that 
they were again completely buried in the 
snow. They were obliged to pass the entire 
day without fire, except occasionally light- 
ing fir-cones to create, for a few moments, a 
little light and warmth. Jacques and his 
grandfather passed a sorrowful and weari- 
some day. 

Upon the nth of December, the lad 
wakened shaking with cold, and chilled to 


96 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

his very heart. Possessing no means of warm- 
ing themselves, for they dared not attempt 
to light a fire, fearing they should be suffo- 
cated by the smoke, they passed a sad and 
uncomfortable day. Blanchette too appeared 
to suffer, bleating plaintively, and ceasing 
not, although Jacques caressed her tenderly. 
It required all their confidence and strength 
not to lose in their present situation all 
courage and hope, and sink into helpless 
despondency and grief; but this strength of 
soul and power of endurance the grandfather 
possessed in a remarkable degree : no word 
of complaint, not a sigh escaped his lips ; 
and Jacques would not be less cheerful, less 
courageous than the feeble, delicate old man 
who set him so noble an example. 

A day or two passed without any variation 
in the monotony of their lives, when an 
occurrence took place which caused them 
considerable alarm. 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. Q/ 

As Jacques was one morning milking the 
goat, while the grandfather was lighting a 
small fire of fir-cones upon the hearth, 
Blanchette suddenly pricked up her ears, as 
though she heard an unusual noise, trembling 
at the same time in all her limbs. 

“ What is the matter, Blanchette ? ” asked 
Jacques, caressing her; ^‘what terrifies you? 
Hold still, my pretty one; no harm shall 
come to you.” 

Instead of becoming reassured by the 
boy’s manner, the goat exhibited new signs 
of terror, and, nestling close to Jacques, 
bleated her fears. 

At that moment the lad heard low and 
distant bowlings, which gradually grew more 
and more distinct, until the noise sounded 
overhead, and they could hear the pattering 
of feet upon the crisp snow. 

“ Grandfather,” cried the boy, in agitated 

tones, they are wolves.” 

G 


9 


98 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

Hush, my child, and try to keep Blanchette 
quiet,” said the old man, extending at the 
same time a handful of salt toward the poor 
creature, who still trembled violently. 

How fortunate we are snowed up again ! ” 
whispered the grandfather ; “without this, the 
fierce beasts would soon have discovered us. 
But we must be upon our guard, Jacques, 
and be prepared for an attack : speak low, 
my boy, and try to keep Blanchette from 
bleating.” 

They passed some moments of painful 
suspense : when suddenly the bowlings re- 
doubled. 

“They burrow sometimes through the 
snow,” whispered the lad, while he pressed 
his grandfather’s arm in his terror ; “ we shall 
be torn in pieces.” 

“ Not so, my child,” he answered ; “ we are 
certainly in a dangerous situation, yet I do 
not think the wolves will find us out, unless 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


99 


the bleatings of the goat betray us. These 
animals in all probability will not remain 
long upon the height, where there is but 
little to be had, but will scour down toward 
the plains, and in the outskirts of the vil- 
lages. It may be only accident that has led 
them overhead, or it may be they are tear- 
ing to pieces a deer or chamois, which they 
have killed, and are consuming it upon 
the spot : hence the bowlings that so terrify 
us.” 

“ But if they should force their way through ! 
what then ? ” asked the boy. 

I do not believe that will happen ; but 
should it, we must defend ourselves as 
courageously as possible. We have for de- 
fence the axe, the pitchfork, and our knives : 
even if they should scent us out, it would 
be a difficult matter for them to break through 
the roof It is fortunate that your tunnel 
has filled up, my boy; we should be thankful 


100 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


indeed that God has in this manner again 
protected us, turning the seeming evil into a 
blessing.” 

The goat bleated loudly as Jacques was 
about to reply, and on the instant the fierce 
bowlings redoubled in intensity. The boy’s 
cheek blanched, and the old man’s hitherto 
peaceful manner indicated some anxiety, 
as he listened intently. 

He said, There is no longer room for doubt. 
Blanchette’s bleatings have betrayed us, and 
we must redouble our vigilance : the wolves 
may seek to press through the roof! hark, 
they are scratching away the snow 1 quick, 
Jacques, light the lamp : courage, my child, 
our roof is firm, and we have weapons for 
our defence. We can retire from one in- 
trenchment to the other ; we have dairy and 
stall, into which we can retreat. But above 
all, let us have light, my son.” 

The boy, roused by his grandfather’s 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. lOI 

words from the stupor of his fright, hast- 
ened to obey his directions. 

“ Now take the axe, my son, and bring 
me the pitch-fork,” said he, hurriedly. Thus 
standing, they awaited momentarily the fear- 
ful attack, which apparently would not much 
longer be delayed. The old man cast one 
searching glance upon his grandson, and 
was well satisfied with the boy’s manful bear- 
ing. Jacques’s eyes sparkled, his teeth were 
pressed tightly together, showing no longer 
the slightest trace of fear. 

The bowlings of the blood-thirsty crea- 
tures continued, and the boy and his grand- 
father listened intently. 

“They are not here — they are over the 
dairy,” said the old man, suddenly: “ we must 
look, Jacques.” 

Taking the lamp, they entered the milk- 
room, Blanchette following, though she 
9 * 


t 


102 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


would not cross the threshold, showing 
signs of intense fear. 

“ I am right in my conjecture : Blanchette 
confirms it,” said the grandfather. “ Do you 
not hear, Jacques? The noise the animals 
make is much more distinct here than in 
the kitchen. We can defend ourselves now 
much better than there. Put the lamp in the 
corner, so that it be not extinguished in the 
struggle. Now the table, here, my lad, so 
that you can reach the rafters without diffi- 
culty. Now up, my boy, and keep a brave 
heart.” 

Some moments of almost breathless sus- 
pense followed, when suddenly the planks 
upon the roof creaked : the wolves had 
evidently digged their way through the 
snow. Jacques tightened his hold upon his 
weapon. 

At that moment the paw of a wolf was in- 
serted through a small opening he had made: 


i 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


103 


Jacques did not shrink, but with one stroke 
severed it at the knee. 

“Well done, my lad,” cried the old man; 
“he is at least harmless; one less to struggle 
against. I do not believe there are more than 
four or five, Jacques.” These words had 
hardly escaped his lips, when, from the 
gradually widening opening, the head of a 
second wolf protruded, glaring upon his op- 
ponent with voracious and blood-thirsty eye. 
The boy did not hesitate, but, with all his 
strength, drove his axe into the skull of the 
animal, who drew back with a howl of rage 
and pain. Without doubt, had not Jacques 
and his grandfather the advantage of their 
position, they would have been torn in 
pieces by the rest of the enraged animals, 
who appeared to be aroused to uncontrol- 
lable fury by the blood of their comrades. 
And now, a third and fourth continued the 
attack, splintering the shingles with their 


104 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


sharp claws, and tearing them aside. A mo- 
riient more, and both would have sprung into 
the chalet ; but the brave old man drove the 
sharp iron prongs of the pitchfork into the 
breast of one, and the axe of Jacques struck 
off a second paw: and now followed blow 
upon blow, thrust upon thrust; the blood 
streamed down from the roof, and the 
raging beasts were only kept from falling 
through by the cross-beams of the chalet. 
The howls of rage were gradually ex- 
changed for those of pain, and as the old 
man gave one last, effective stab, they re- 
treated as abruptly as they came. 

“Do you think they will return, grand- 
father ? ’’ inquired the lad, while he wiped 
the sweat and blood from his face. “Will 
they come back ? ” 

“ I think not, my child : they have had 
enough this time; still, it would be prudent 
to remain at our post. Two or three, at 












BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


105 


least, will die from the wounds received. 
But stop ! what is that ? do you hear any- 
thing? ” 

Jacques grasped his axe convulsively, and 
listened. “It is the wolves,” said he; “they 
howl still ; but it is as though they had at- 
tacked one another.” 

“That is it,” replied the old man. “Thank 
God, we are now safe. The stronger, no doubt, 
have fallen upon the weaker: they are feast- 
ing upon the flesh of their comrades. You 
can leave your post, my son; we need fear 
them no longer.” 

The boy sprang from the table, and throw- 
ing his arms around the old man’s neck, 
exclaimed : “ God be thanked, that He has 
protected us from death : that was the most 
fearful hour we have yet passed in the chalet, 
grandfather ! ” 

“ I trembled for you, my boy,” replied the 
old man ; “ now I dare confess it ; but God 


io6 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


heard my fervent prayers. To him be all 
the praise and glory. Oh ! my child, I shud- 
der when I think what a fate might have 
been ours.” 

A long time they stood in a close em- 
brace, each returning thanks for the signal 
mercy shown them in this hour of sore 
need. 

The necessary preparations were now 
made to protect themselves against a second 
attack : by the time they were completed, 
evening had come, and, tired in body and 
mind, the exhausted old man and his brave 
grandson sought and found rest, and sweet 
refreshing sleep, until another day awakened 
them to new sorrows and joys, new hopes 
and cares. 




CHAPTER VII. 

THE BITTER CUP. 

OTWITHSTANDING Jacques’s 
thankfulness for his deliverance 
from a horrible death, he awoke upon the 
following morning feeling more than usually 
depressed: their imprisonment seemed to 
him more irksome than ever, for he knew 
that now it was not only necessary to re- 
main within the chalet, but that they could 
no longer admit the pure, fresh air into their 
little room : door and window must be suf- 
fered to remain blocked up with snow, and 
neither he nor his grandfather could refresh 
their weary eyes with the light of the sun 
or the blue heavens. Without this protect- 



107 



I08 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

ing wall of snow, their situation would have 
been in the highest degree critical. 

Before the visit of the wolves, the boy had 
in imagination drawn a cheerful and almost 
pleasant picture of the way they would pass 
their time in the little chalet ; but now there 
remained to them only the same cheerless 
monotony, and no relief from the darkness 
which hemmed them in. All the hopes 
from which he had derived comfort, courage, 
and endurance, had been crushed at one 
blow. Then, too, their scanty store of pro- 
visions was gradually diminishing, and they 
were beginning to feel the want of more 
nourishing food ; their diet consisted of the 
goat’s milk and a piece of hard bread, varied 
occasionally with a potato, seasoned with 
a little salt. 

The boy’s grandfather sought to cheer 
and comfort him in his despondency, and 
reconcile him to his hard fate. At last 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


109 


Jacques found employment, that for a few 
days at least diverted the current of his 
thought. To guard against a second attack 
from the wolves, they were obliged to keep 
the trap carefully closed, and by so doing 
they could have no fire, as the smoke had 
no other outlet to escape. The boy found 
in the stall an old iron pipe, which he 
determined to make use of Cutting a 
circular aperture in the trap large enough to 
admit the pipe, after much thought, con- 
trivance, and labor, he fitted it as desired in 
the hole, securing it firmly with pieces of 
wood. And now the feasibility of the con- 
trivance was to be tested. 

A fire was kindled upon the hearth, and 
the poor captives saw with pleasure that it 
blazed cheerfully, without their being an- 
noyed as before by the stifling smoke. 
This arrangement added greatly to their 
comfort, being both safe and convenient. 

10 


no 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


Their next employment was to barricade 
the window effectually, their weakest assail- 
able point : this was done by means of poles 
and boards from the crib and manger. 

Jacques and his grandfather preserved 
their little store of oil in a large stone jug, 
which stood in a corner of the kitchen : one 
day the lad accidentally overset it, which 
caused them both for the moment consider- 
able alarm ; fortunately there was no oil lost. 
To protect themselves against such a mis- 
fortune in the future, they concluded to make 
a hole in the ground in which to place the 
vessel, where it would be secure. Hardly 
had Jacques given the first blow of the axe, 
when his grandfather hurriedly called to him 
to desist, at the same time taking the axe 
out of the boy’s hand, beginning himself to 
make the cavity, and using extreme caution 
in so doing. 

'‘Why are you so careful, grandfather?” 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


Ill 


said Jacques; ‘Mt seems almost as though 
you feared you would break something con- 
cealed in the earth.” 

You have guessed aright,” my child, “ re- 
plied the old man. I expect to find in this 
spot what may prove to us an invaluable 
treasure. See, see, Jacques ! I have not de- 
ceived myself — a bottle; and filled, I doubt 
not, with good wine.” 

Did you know, grandfather, that it was 
buried there ? ” inquired the surprised lad. 

“ Certainly. I ought to know, for I placed it 
there myself,” smilingly replied the old man. 
“ Years ago I buried here four or five bottles 
which remained over our summer’s store. I 
have not thought of them since; but with 
your first blow of the axe the remembrance 
returned. See, my boy, here are the other 
bottles.” They were carefully placed in the 
great oaken cupboard, being reserved for 
time of need. 


II2 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


Jacques insisted that his grandfather should 
use of the wine at once, to restore his appe- 
tite and strength, which had been failing for 
some time, and the lad had felt on this ac- 
count, for days past, much solicitude. 

To-day winter has commenced,” said 
the old man, upon the morning of the 21st 
of December, as Jacques was making the fire 
upon the hearth. 

“Just commenced!” said the lad. “I 
thought winter had come weeks since.” 

“ Snow and ice have come, my lad ; but 
not winter. It does not properly set in until 
the 2 1 St. To-day the sun has reached his 
lowest point. For us this is the shortest 
day. Ninety days, and spring, bright, beau- 
tiful spring, will come to cheer us with its 
sprouts and blossoms, its warm sunbeams, 
and mild, fragrant breezes — the spring 
which shall open to us the door of our cha- 
let, and restore us to liberty, to our relatives 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. II3 

and friends. Ninety days, Jacques, and we 
will descend the old well-known paths to 
our beloved home in the valley.” 

“ Ninety days ! that is a long, long time, 
grandfather,” replied the boy. “ Would to 
God they were passed ! ” 

“ They will pass away, as have the early 
days of our captivity; and the more quickly, 
the more courageously we look them in the 
face,” answered the grandfather. “ We must 
try to shorten the time by some kind of em- 
ployment. To be sure, we are obliged to 
sit in darkness, but we know even the blind 
can employ their time usefully.” 

Jacques eagerly seized this suggestion, 
and tried to weave his straw bands in the 
darkness. At first it appeared as though he 
would never be able to do it ; but after some 
time, the work became easier, and he soon 
found the sense of touch replaced, in a certain 
degree, that of sight. He exerted himself dili- 
10* H 


II4 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

gently and perseveringly, so that before long 
he could plait as quickly and neatly as by 
the light of the lamp. And thus he lamented 
less the want of light, which had induced 
weariness and tiresome inactivity. 

And now the Christmas festival had come. 
For the poor captives the holy day was not 
one of joy, but of sorrow. With inexpress- 
ible longings did they think of home, and 
in fancy they mingled with the dearly loved 
group. Would they ever see them again ? 
would they ever enjoy with them the Christ- 
mas feast ? should they ever walk with them 
to the house of God, to give thanks for His 
most precious gift to poor, sinful, suffering 
man? or sing praises to the holy child 
Jesus? Jacques and his grandfather spent 
the day in meditation and prayer. 

The poor old man had not been well for 
some days, complaining of intense pain in 
his limbs. Jacques noticed, with much so- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. II5 

licitude, that his feet were much swollen, 
particularly the one he had injured. His 
heart sank, as the thought for the first time 
presented itself that his grandfather might 
die before their time of deliverance would 
come. The same thought seemed to have 
burdened the mind of the old man. He had 
been all day unusually silent and thoughtful; 
toward evening he roused himself from his 
abstraction. 

“ ^ Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? 
and why art thou disquieted within me ? ’ ” 
said he. Have we a right to murmur or 
complain, my son, when we think of the 
blessed Saviour, who voluntarily, for the 
salvation of poor sinners, left the glory of 
heaven, and came down to earth, where he 
drained the bitter cup of sorrow ? What are 
our sufferings compared with his ? We have 
a shelter and a refuge. God’s own Son had 
nowhere to lay His head. We, perchance, 


Il6 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

are forgotten of men. Jesus, the holy, inno- 
cent Lamb of God, was by men persecuted, 
mocked, yea, even put to death, the cruel 
death of the cross. We have no right to be 
impatient, my son, or sorrowful. Let us 
pray, that we may be able from our hearts 
to say, ‘ O Lord, for Thy sake, I will cheer- 
fully suffer whatsoever shall come on me 
with Thy permission. If it be Thy will that 
I should be in darkness, be Thou blessed ; 
and if it be Thy will that I should be in light, 
be Thou again blessed. If Thou vouchsafe 
to comfort me, be Thou blessed ; and if 
Thou wilt have me afflicted, be Thou blessed 
also.’ ” 

“I will try and not murmur or complain, 
grandfather,” replied the boy. “ I will bear 
cheerfully all that God sends upon us, if 
only he spare me the bitterest cup of sor- 
row.” 


“ And what is that, my child ? 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


II7 


“ If you should be seriously sick, grand- 
father : I could not bear to see you suffer.” 

“ My dear Jacques, as bitter as this cup 
may appear, you must be prepared to put it 
to your lips : I am old, my poor body is 
weak, ^ held fast by many fears, racked 
with many cares, worn with many labors. 
Wherefore shall I fear to enter into my 
father’s kingdom, and see his glory? The 
days of this life have been short and evil, 
full of sorrow and straitnesses.’ Only one 
wish I have : to see you, my son, restored 
to your father, before I go hence. But, 
should God will it otherwise, and take me 
to himself, before we return to our home in 
the valley I still have confidence in you, 
my boy, that you will bear my death with- 
out giving way to despair. What help am I 
to you, my child ? I am nothing but a bur- 
den — a chain which you ever drag about 
with you, which only your filial love for me 


Il8 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

enables you to bear. You are the one that 
has labored; I have only advised. Why 
dread an event that sooner or later must 
happen? and wherefore grieve before the 
time ? I am not so weak that there is no 
longer room for hope. Your love and watch- 
ful care for me, and the blessing of God 
upon them, can prolong my life until the 
spring; and I may yet see the fresh, green 
woods and valley.” 

Jacques was but little comforted by these 
persuasive words, and still wept, continu- 
ing the entire day sorrowful and depressed. 
The old man saw that the sad theme must 
be discontinued, and the boy’s thoughts di- 
verted, if possible. 

'‘Jacques,” said he, in cheerful tones, 
"something has occurred to me that I think 
will be to our advantage. Suppose we try 
to make some cheese from our goat’s milk ? 
Have you ever thought of it?” 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. IIQ 

His grandfather could not have devised 
anything better. So soon as the lad had 
employment, he forgot for the time all else, 
and with the ardor of youth exclaimed : 

** That is a splendid idea, grandfather : to- 
morrow I will try what I can do.” 

Upon the following day he went briskly 
to work : he succeeded almost beyond his 
expectations, the cheese looking so tempt- 
ing as to delight the boy greatly ; but, when 
Jacques brought it to his grandfather for his 
approval, all his fears and cares returned, for 
the old man was lying down, feeling too 
weak and exhausted to rise. It was with 
some difficulty that he quieted the lad, and 
he endeavored to appear, for his sake, better 
than he really was. He felt that his strength 
was failing day by day, and that there was 
less and less probability of his living until 
the spring. 

In the midst of these cares and fears came 


120 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


the first of January, “New-Year’s Day.’" 
Jacques’s grandfather exerted himself to 
cheer the lad; amusing him with games, and 
striving in many other ways to make him 
forget the impending trouble. He tried to 
make it a festive day for the poor boy, and 
suggested that they should indulge more 
than ordinarily in such good cheer as lay 
within their reach. The cheese which 
Jacques had made must be cut, potatoes 
also, roasted in the ashes, were to be added 
to the feast, together with a small quantity 
of their wine. Nor was Blanchette forgot- 
ten : she had a double ration of salt, and 
Jacques selected the sweetest hay for her 
holiday dinner, and a fresh, clean bed of 
straw, making her glad with a triple allow- 
ance of caresses; and so passed the day, 
which had threatened nothing but sorrow, 
quite happily for our poor prisoners. 

But not many more such days were they 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


I2I 


to pass ; and the old man felt that the boy’s 
fears must be again aroused, and that what 
he wished yet to attend to must be done 
without delay. The following day his grand- 
father told Jacques to bring to his bedside 
pen and paper, and write down a few words 
which he would dictate. The words were as 
follows : 

In the name of God, Amen ! 

It is more than probable that I may be 
taken from my friends before I can state to 
them my wishes. I have no special direc- 
tions to give regarding my trifling property. 
But I wish to give to my dear grandson, 
Jacques Lopraz, here present, some proof of 
my love and gratitude for all his care and 
devotion ; and therefore I beg my heirs that 
they give to him (should it not be in my 
power) my watch ; my rifle ; my Bible, which 
belonged to my father ; and my seal, upon 
which my initials are engraved. 


I 


122 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


“ These slight tokens of my love will be 
valuable to him for the sake of the true love 
which we bear for each other, and which 
death itself cannot weaken. 

^^Such is my will. 

“ Signed at the Chalet of Azindes, the 
2 d of January, i8 — . 

‘'Louis Lopraz.” 

Jacques wept as he wrote, and at the close 
fell sobbing at the side of the old man. 

“ Be calm, my dear child, be calm,” whis- 
pered he in gentle tones. “ What our God 
sends must be borne without murmuring, in 
quiet submission. If I am separated from 
you, my love will remain the same.” 

Jacques endeavored to repress his grief, 
and in some degree recovered his composure. 
For several days longer the old man lived, 
comforting the poor lad with his presence, 
until he hoped with all the confidence of 
youth that the evil day would not come, that 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


123 


his grandfather would recover, and regain 
his lost strength. The kind God would not 
cause him such grief and pain. He, in his 
infinite love and compassion, would suffer 
him to live until spring — would let him 
look once more upon the dear home in the 
valley. 

With such hopes the boy sustained him- 
self, and buoyed up his sinking heart, while 
he prayed fervently that God, for the dear 
Saviour’s sake, might fulfil his ardent desires. 

The days passed away slowly : it had now 
been a long time since any noise from with- 
out had penetrated their seclusion : their 
chalet appeared to be completely buried 
under the snow that had fallen lately in great 
quantities. The iron pipe which Jacques had 
placed in the chimney still answered the 
purpose, and was the sole link that con- 
nected them with the outer world — a few 
flakes of snow occasionally falling through 


124 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


it into their chalet. These white messengers 
of winter were the only indications of life 
that reached the captives in their dark grave. 

Should the clock have stopped, they would 
not have known had it been morning, mid- 
day, or evening. It was solely by means of 
the faint glimmer of light which they saw 
from the top of the small iron pipe that they 
could distinguish day from night. On the 
other hand, they suffered very little from 
cold in their silent cave ; and were able daily 
to renew the fresh air without risking their 
safety. Jacques thought if only his grand- 
father’s life was spared, and their provisions 
held out, all might yet be well. 

But God, in his inscrutable wisdom, did not 
so will it, and days of heavy trial awaited 
the poor lad in the future. 

It was now the 3d of January : the day 
had almost passed away, and although the 
old man had but little appetite, he had not 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


125 


complained of pain, remaining calm and 
comparatively cheerful until evening. After 
supper, as he sat by the chimney corner to 
talk, as was his wont, to the lad, he suddenly 
turned pale as death, trembled, sank down, 
and would have fallen, had not Jacques 
quickly ran to his assistance. 

The startled boy shrieked aloud, and with 
a strength far beyond his years, bore him to 
his bed, and laid him gently down. His 
head and feet were cold. The blood appeared 
to have rushed to the heart. Jacques rubbed 
his hands and feet, and after a time the 
blood began to circulate, and consciousness 
returned. 

“ Where am I ? ” he asked, opening his 
eyes. “ On my bed ? ” 

“ Yes, grandfather,” replied the boy. 
‘‘You fainted, and I carried you here.” 

“You carried me here! ” said the old man, 
in astonishment. “ God be thanked, that, 


II 


126 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


as I grow weaker, you, my child, grow 
stronger.” 

Jacques poured out a little wine, and in- 
sisted upon his grandfather drinking it, after 
which the old man felt somewhat refreshed. 
Soon after, he fell into a quiet sleep, while 
the boy kneeled beside his bed, and watched 
for a long time his slumber : then lying 
down, quiet sleep soon closed the weary eye- 
lids of the poor child, and the night passed 
peacefully away. 

The following day and night brought no 
change. Upon the next morning the grand- 
father was unusually quiet. After some 
hours spent in deep thought, he called 
Jacques to him, and speaking unreservedly 
about the state of his health, he prayed him 
to await his death with composure and Chris- 
tian resignation. 

“ Come here, my child,” the old man said, 
and sit by my side. I can no longer con- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


127 


ceal from you that the close of my life is not 
very far off, and that my poor frail body will 
turn to dust before the hour of your rescue 
comes. My weakness increases so rapidly 
as to leave me no room for hope. I trust, and 
doubt not, that you will be more troubled at 
our separation than alarmed at your loneli- 
ness. But I have confidence in your faith in 
God, your strength of mind, and your love 
for your father, to whose arms, I feel assured. 
Providence will restore you. After my death, 
my child, you will have fewer hardships to 
contend with. I have been only a burden 
to you. And should the time come when 
you can leave the chalet, I will be no longer 
an obstacle in your way. But do not run 
any risk ; wait patiently. A few days earlier 
or later will make but little difference after 
so long an imprisonment, and by not await- 
ing the right time, you may risk all. Reflect 
a moment, my son ; your health has not suf- 


128 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


fered much. The monotony and loneliness 
will, perhaps, be oppressive. I know you 
will miss my companionship ; but you must 
think how many prisoners are condemned 
to months, yes, long years of silence, who 
have not as you, my child, the consciousness 
that they suffer innocently. Pray for patient 
endurance, Jacques. Only one thought trou- 
bles me. I fear the effect of my death upon 
your nerves. When you look upon my 
poor body deprived of life, horror and fear, 
as well as grief and sorrow, will, perhaps, 
take hold upon your spirit. This feeling 
you must at once struggle to overcome. 
Pray earnestly against it, and it will pass 
away. 

“ And why should you fear the remains 
of one so dear ? Let us reason about it, 
Jacques. Do you fear me when I sleep ? 
were you afraid of me the other day when I 
fainted? why, then, feel alarm when death 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I2g 

comes? You know your dear old friend 
would never harm you ! 

“When I am dead, Jacques, give my body 
to the earth. There, in the dairy, which we 
now never enter, dig a grave deep enough to 
receive it, and there lay it down, and let it 
rest until the spring opens and you return 
to the valley. Your father will then provide 
a coffin, and lay me in the pleasant church- 
yard of our village, where my father and 
grandfather rest in the soft slumber of death. 

“ After the fulfilment of all these sorrowful 
duties, you will, without doubt, feel very 
lonely in the little chalet. You will shed 
many a tear ; you will call, but I will not 
hear your voice. But, Jacques, my child, be 
not overcome with grief ; rouse yourself 
from depression; struggle against it. Turn 
your thoughts to God — the omnipresent 
God. Put your trust and confidence in Him; 
He will be your refuge, your defence, and 
I 


130 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


strength. The Lord will be thy shepherd. 
‘ If thou look to thyself, thou shalt be able 
of thyself to accomplish nothing : but if 
thou trust in the Lord, strength shall be 
given thee from heaven. Drink of the Lord’s 
cup with submission.’ Promise me, my son, 
that you will do this.” 

The poor boy tearfully listened to these 
words, but the pressure of his hand assured 
his grandfather that he would strive to fol- 
low his instructions. 

Some days passed away in alternations of 
hope and fear. The darkness appeared to 
oppress the old man, although he would not 
suffer the lamp to be burned during the day. 
Jacques contrived, however, a mode of econo- 
mizing the oil. He made a night-light by 
pouring a little oil upon water, and placing 
upon its surface a piece of cork, through 
which a small wick was inserted. This sub- 
stitute furnished for them a light, and at the 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I3I 

same time consumed but little oil. It cheered 
his grandfather, and was a source of comfort 
to the boy. 

Upon the 9th of January, that which the 
boy had long dreaded came upon him. His 
grandfather, the dear companion of his trials, 
was, by God’s will, taken from him. 

How he bore this sorrow, as the thought 
of his utter loneliness pressed upon him, we 
can best see from extracts copied from his 
diary. 

January loth . — My God, it is thy will. 
I am alone with Thee ; far away from all the 
rest of the world ! Yesterday it happened. . . . 
It is impossible for me to write down yet the 
full account of his death. My heart bleeds 
with anguish, and my paper is wet with my 
tears. 

January 12th . — Yes, this is the 12th. 
Two days have elapsed since I wrote the 
preceding lines. My reason has returned. 


132 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


and God of his mercy grant that it may not 
again give way. Oh ! if I knew not that the 
Lord was with me, around and about me, I 
would die of grief and terror. 

January i^th. — On the evening of the 
8th I was full of hope, for my grandfather 
seemed better than usual, but scarcely had I 
lain down beside him when I heard him sigh 
heavily. I sprang up, and, without delay, 
dressed myself, and lighted the lamp, asking 
him if he felt worse. 

“ ‘ I feel faint,’ he replied ; ‘ as I did 
some days ago ; or it may be . . .’ Here he 
paused. 

‘ Will you take a little wine, dear grand- 
father,* I asked. 

“ ^ No, my child,’ he answered. * Bathe 
my hands and temples with vinegar . . and 
then . . . get the “ Imitation of Christ,” and 
find the passage I marked with reference to 
this hour.’ 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I33 

“ I obeyed ; and when I had bathed his 
dear hands and temples, I threw myself 
down upon m^ knees, and read, with trem- 
bling voice, ‘ Thine, O Lord, are all things 
that are in heaven and that are in earth. I 
offer up unto Thee all whatsoever is good in 
me, although it be very small and imperfect, 
that Thou mayest amend and sanctify it 
Make it grateful and acceptable unto Thee, 
and bring me also, who am a slothful and 
unprofitable creature, to a good and blessed 
end. . . .’ 

“ Interrupting me, he took my hands in 
his and prayed : ^ O Lord, my God, forgive 
me that I think not in this awful moment 
alone upon the salvation of my soul, but also 
upon this poor boy. Thou callest me to Thy- 
self, and he will be alone. I tremble at the 
thought of his bitter sorrow and trial. I trem- 
ble lest his confidence in Thee should give way. 
O Lord, strengthen and comfort him; enable 


12 


134 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


him to resign himself calmly to Thy will, 
and, whatever comes upon him, to endure it, 
for the glory of Jesus Christ : for after win- 
ter followeth summer; after night the day 
returneth, and after a tempest a great calm. 
O Lord, grant that he may be restored to 
his friends. I gladly submit to Thy will, 
and doubt not that this trial, bitter though 
it be, will work out for him a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I 
implore Thee, dear Lord, for the salvation of 
his precious soul. Grant that he may be 
Thy child, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.’ 

These were the words, as nearly as I can 
remember, of my poor grandfather. He 
spoke slowly, and in a feeble voice. At 
times he repeated sentences from the Bible, 
particularly words of our Saviour, with such 
fervor and Christian resignation as almost 
to break my heart. A circumstance, trifling 
in itself, moved me greatly. Blanchette, 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


135 


awakened by the unaccustomed light, set up 
a plaintive bleat. 

Poor Blanchette ! ’ said the old man, 
must caress her once more ; let her loose, 
my child, and lead her to my bed.’ 

1 did as he wished, and Blanchette, con- 
fiding and tame as she was, put her two 
fore feet on the edge of the bed, and begged 
for something to eat. I thought it would 
please my grandfather, so I laid a little salt 
in his hand, and Blanchette licked it up with 
delight. 

‘ Give plenty of milk, you dear, faithful 
creature,’ said the old man, while he con- 
tinued to stroke her caressingly. Then he 
turned aside his head, and I led Blanchette 
to her manger. 

“ After that he spoke but little. He whis- 
pered that I should remain at his side, with 
his hand in mine. I said a few affection- 
ate words, and they appeared to give him 


136 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


pleasure ; I therefore leaned down, and said, 
with all the composure I could: ‘Farewell, 
grandfather! farewell — until we meet in 
heaven. I will not forget your injunctions, 
but will strive to follow them. “ I believe in 
God the Father; and in Jesus Christ, His 
only Son, our Lord.” Do not be troubled 
about me, grandfather: God will be my sup- 
port ; I will lean upon his strong arm ! ’ 

“ Here my poor grandfather pressed my 
hand, and made an effort to answer, but he 
could only express his joy by a sigh. 

“‘I will remember all the advice you gave 
me,’ I continued, ‘and neglect nothing that 
will tend to preserve my life, or help to de- 
liver me from this imprisonment. Farewell, 
dear grandfather! In heaven you will see 
my dear mother, perhaps my father; tell 
them both I will strive to meet you all there. 
Farewell ! farewell ! ’ 

“ I felt a tremor, a gentle tremor, as I held 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


137 


his hand, it was the last: his dear, cold hand 
fell from mine. ‘ God . . with thee, . . my 
child,’ he whispered — and he died, without 
pain, without one struggle, without one 
groan. 

“My most painful moments were not 
those first experienced. When I recovered 
from the stupor which his death produced, 
and found myself in my sad dwelling, alone 
with the dead body, I involuntarily shud- 
dered, for night with her mysterious shadow 
had come. 

“The next morning I had so far regained 
composure as to wind up the clock and 
milk Blanchette ; the cold too, reminded me 
that I must make the fire ; then I sank into 
dark, gloomy thought, that lasted until even- 
ing, when a storm arose, and the wailing and 
roaring of its angry blasts aroused me from 
my stupor. 

“ I was sitting in the chimney corner by 


12 


138 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

the feeble glimmer of the night-light, with 
my back turned toward the bed. I felt a sort 
of horror gradually creeping over me; I could 
no longer collect my thoughts; chill after 
chill ran through my frame; and I would 
perhaps have lost my reason through my 
mental anguish and terror, if God had not 
brought to my remembrance the words of 
my grandfather. I rose up and approached 
the bed : I looked upon his poor body ; I 
laid my hand upon it — it was a painful mo- 
ment ; I repeated my look, my touch, and I 
felt my terror gradually subside. 

“ Since that time, I have returned at inter- 
vals to the remains of the dear old man, 
and fulfilled for him, tranquilly and calmly, 
all those little services which the occasion 
required. His expression was so sweet 
and peaceful, that my tears broke forth 
afresh. 

*“No,’ sobbed I to myself, ‘the earthly re- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


139 


mains of my beloved grandfather shall cause 
me no further alarm.’ 

Notwithstanding, my fear, in some de- 
gree, returned as I prepared for sleep. At 
last I laid myself down by Blanchette, nes- 
tling close to her side. The warmth and her 
regular breathing gradually composed me, 
and I fell into a sound sleep. Wakening 
before morning, I found the light had gone 
out: again my heart beat with terror. Fool- 
ish child that I was! What security was this 
weak flame ? could it protect me, and guard 
me from evil ? one breath could extinguish 
it ; why did I let my calmness and self-con- 
trol rest upon it? Praying to God that he 
would give me that peace he has promised 
to all that call upon him in spirit and in 
truth, my agitated nerves were soothed, 
and I slept — slept peacefully. 

“ The following morning, after I had 
milked the goat, and finished the usual work, 


140 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


I calmly approached the body, and even held 
the dear, venerable head for several minutes. 
My fear vanished, but my sorrow increased. 
This change, however, was more natural and 
reasonable. 

“ My thoughts were directed to the burial, 
and I tried to recall to my memory what my 
grandfather had said about it. The rest of 
the day I passed in sorrowful meditation, 
and another night I laid down beside Blan- 
chette, and slept soundly. 

The next morning I tried to write in my 
diary, but I was obliged to give it up until 
to-day, when my spirit is somewhat more 
peaceful and composed. My agitation and 
fear were gradually allayed until I felt only 
sorrow and grief. 

“ How many tears I have poured out over 
your poor body, my dear old companion ! I 
cannot bear to think of the interment. But 
the words of holy Scripture reprove and 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I4I 

comfort me: ‘Thou fool, that which thou 
sowest is not quickened except it die.’ 

“ Taking my tools, I opened the door of 
the dairy. ‘Diverse callings have you to 
fulfil,’ said I to myself, as I stepped over the 
threshold. ‘ First nurse, then doctor, and now 
grave-digger.’ 

“The first strokes caused me such pain 
that I was obliged to cease. Not that my 
arms refused their service, but my spirit was 
faint and troubled. Anguish took hold upon 
me. At every blow a hollow noise reverbe- 
rated, for the dairy was vaulted like a cellar. 
I was obliged to accustom myself to this 
sound, and the whole day was consumed in 
a work which, at other times, would scarcely 
have occupied me two hours. Indeed, the 
ground was so light and sandy that I was 
able to throw it out with the shovel. I made 
the grave very deep, for I thought, should I 
leave the chalet, whether to escape from its 


142 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


imprisonment, or to die, in either case I 
must, as far as lay in me, secure his dear 
remains from ravenous beasts. I proceeded 
with my work until the grave was so deep 
that it reached over my head. 

“ The clock struck ten : the night had come, 
and with it dark gloomy thoughts. I had 
not courage to proceed with the interment, 
although I knew that I dared not delay much 
longer ; so, cowering down near Blanchette, 
I put off the sorrowful duty until the follow- 
ing morning. 

“Strengthening myself for the painful 
work which lay before me, I partook of 
some of the bread and wine instead of my 
usual breakfast. Everything had been pre- 
pared the day before. Laying the body of 
my poor grandfather upon a plank, and bind- 
ing it on with care, I cast one tender, sorrowful 
look upon the dear remains. The poor head 
inclined to one side, the hands were folded 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I43 

peacefully over the breast My heart almost 
burst with grief, and I wept then my bitter- 
est tears. 

“ ‘ Grandfather ! ’ cried I, * you have left 
me all alone ! you no longer hear me when 
I speak. Forever, ah ! eternally are your 
white lips sealed.’ 

“ I was obliged to wait some time before I 
was able to proceed with my work. But it 
must be done. Why delay it longer? 

“ The body was soon beside the grave. 
Gently and reverently as possible I suffered 
it to glide down, and, seating myself near, I 
gave way freely to my grief. It was a long 
time before I could resolve to cast the first 
shovelful of earth into the grave. At last, 
seeking strength in prayer, and imploring, 
from a full heart, my Heavenly Father for 
comfort, and entire submission to his will, 
I rose, and covered a large linen cloth over 
the dear face. Soon was the sorrowful work 


144 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


ended. I spent the rest of the day in carving 
a short inscription with my knife upon a 
board : 

“ ‘ Here rest the mortal remains of 
Pierre Louis Lopraz, who died in the night 
of the 8th - 9th of January, in the arms of 
his grandson, Jacques Lopraz, who buried 
him with his own hands.’ 

“ I nailed the board to a stake, and planted 
it upon the mound, after which I closed the 
door, and returned to the kitchen, where I 
now had no companion but my poor Blan- 
chette. 

“Although I felt more composed, now 
that the body lay no longer upon the bed, I 
felt that I had not yet wholly overcome my 
weakness. I resolved to make daily visits 
to the dairy, and always without a light, 
praying morning or evening beside the grave. 
For two days I have done so, and my com- 
posure is gradually returning. But the sad 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I45 

thought that I am now alone, all, all alone, 
I cannot drive away. It pursues me all the 
day long.” 

In this manner did the poor lad describe 
his sufferings, and utter loneliness. He sank 
now into the deepest despondency. For days 
he sat beside the hearth, gazing into vacancy, 
and scarce conscious of one clear thought. 

Only two events are noted in his diary 
which for some time roused him from his 
stupor of despair. 

The first occurred soon after the interment 
of his grandfather. A slight noise in the 
room having attracted his attention one 
evening, as he was about to extinguish his 
lamp and the fire upon the hearth, and turn- 
ing to see what produced it, he found a piece 
of lime, covered with soot, had fallen down. 
It was still glowing. Experiencing some 
anxiety, he looked up the chimney, but found 
his fears were groundless. As he still gazed, 
K 


13 


146 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

a bright star glided slowly past the iron pipe. 
It lasted but a moment, yet it shed a bright 
gleam of hope and comfort into the bowed 
heart of the poor lad. It seemed like a 
messenger from heaven sent to cheer and 
illumine his dark grave — an indication that 
he was not forgotten by his God. Sinking 
down upon his knees, he thanked the Lord, 
with tears of gratitude, for this beam of his 
eternal love. 

But soon his hopelessness returned. The 
deathlike monotony seemed more than he 
could bear, and an incurable melancholy had, 
perhaps, settled upon him, had not a new 
source of disquietude aroused him from his 
grief. 

Jacques for some days past had observed 
that the weather had become milder. He 
required much less fire than usual, and the 
smoke did not escape as readily through the 
pipe. Toward two o’clock in the after- 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


147 


noon, as he sat beside the fire, he suddenly 
heard a hollow, rumbling noise, like the roll- 
ing of distant thunder. It approached nearer, 
and yet nearer, increasing with fearful power. 
Suddenly the chalet shook to its very found- 
ations. Jacques sprang up in affright. 

The different utensils and tools fell in 
confusion around him — a thick, stifling dust 
filled the air, and from the straining and 
creaking of the rafters, the boy knew the 
little chalet had suffered some violent shock. 

At first, he feared the walls would be 
thrown down, but soon he was convinced 
that the kitchen, at least, stood firm. In 
order to assure himself that all was right, he 
lighted the lamp, and proceeded to investi- 
gate. When he entered the stable, a scene 
of destruction met his gaze. A mass of ruins 
covered the ground ; the roof was torn off, 
and lime, shingles, and fragments of beams 
lay strewn around. Evidently some enor- 


148 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


mous mass had fallen against the chalet. 
The boy knew not whether it was a rock 
that had been torn from the mountain, or an 
avalanche precipitated from some high point. 

Jacques thanked God, and took courage. 
His remarkable preservation convinced him 
that his Heavenly Father’s eye still rested 
upon him. 

But a new misfortune threatened him. The 
goat, as his grandfather had feared, began 
gradually to yield a smaller quantity of milk. 
Jacques first observed it about the middle of 
January, and by the 25th of the month the 
fact could no longer be doubted. He re- 
called the words of his grandfather, who one 
day had said, while they were discussing the 
probabilities of such a case : “ What should 
we do, Jacques, if Blanchette were to go 
dry ? It would, I fear, be absolutely neces- 
sary for us to kill the poor creature for our 
own preservation.” 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


149 


But the boy could not bear to think of 
putting to death the faithful companion of 
his solitude. He resolved to delay this as 
long as possible. Then, too, Blanchette still 
gave some milk, sufficient for his immediate 
wants. To be sure, he could no longer make 
cheese, but he still had some in store, and 
possibly the yield of milk might increase. 
After a strict examination of his resources, 
he calculated that they would last him at 
farthest about fifteen or sixteen days. 

Jacques now came to the conclusion to 
give Blanchette a double allowance of salt : 
her milk increased, for two or three days, 
but again decreased, until it was scarcely 
worth while milking her for the little she 
gave. 

By the 8th of February he tried for the 
last time to milk the goat, but was obliged 
to give up the vain task. Seating himself 
upon the ground beside the poor creature, 
13* 


150 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


he threw his arms around her and wept 
bitterly. The hour had come : he must kill 
his faithful nurse, the sole living creature 
that sweetened his solitude. How was it 
possible for him to put a knife to her throat, 
after all the benefits he had received from 
her! 

He could .not decide upon the painful yet 
necessary deed ; he still postponed its exe- 
cution ; he had a little food left, and he 
would economize it as strictly as possible. 

Upon the I2th of February he observed 
in his diary, “ It is impossible for me, in the 
midst of so much sorrow and anguish of 
mind, to write with any degree of regularity. 
My provisions are almost exhausted ; Blan- 
chette grows daily fatter, and yet .... I can- 
not force myself to the horrible deed. 

February — I have searched the chalet 
again, even digging up the ground in several 
places, hoping to find some hidden store — 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I5I 

in vain : the exertion has only increased my 
hunger. What will become of us ? O God, 
help us ! 

^'February lyth, — The cold has become, 
since yesterday evening, so intense that I 
am obliged to keep a constant fire. This 
would be good weather to preserve poor 
Blanchette’s flesh : it would freeze hard, and 
would be more likely to keep. But the 
weather may change; should that happen, 
I would not have sufficient salt for my pur- 
pose. 

''February \%th . — The cold increases: it 
reminds me of the attack of the wolves. 
There is nothing to hinder them now from 
roving about the mountain. May God pro- 
tect me from them ! To be torn in pieces ! 
what a frightful fate ! far rather would I be 
crushed by an avalanche ; such a death 
would be sweet compared to the other. 

“ February 2Qth , — I have concluded how to 


152 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


act. I will leave the chalet to-morrow ; and 
in case a misfortune befall me, I will record 
in my diary what has led me to this deter- 
mination. Yesterday Blanchette’s bleating 
awakened me from a frightful dream. I 
thought I was standing, with hands covered 
with blood, hacking her flesh to pieces, while 
the poor animal uttered cries of pain, look- 
ing at the same time sorrowfully upon me. 
When I awoke I found my cheeks wet with 
tears. With joy I saw that Blanchette still 
lived. I ran to her and caressed her tenderly 
- — but my joy did not last long. What 
would I gain by the delay ? in two days my 
food would be gone. I must come to a 
decision. I took my knife — I drew near 
to give the fatal blow, but I could not. It 
seemed to me as if I were about to commit 
murder. The knife fell from my hand, and, 
throwing my arms around her, I hugged her 
again and again. 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


153 


“ The cold was severe, and after lighting a 
fire, while I warmed myself, the thought 
suddenly occurred to me, ‘ If the wolves can 
travel over the snow, why can you not do 
the same ? ’ 

“ The very idea filled me with joy. But 
soon fear took possession of me. In order 
not to sacrifice Blanchette, I was about to 
expose myself to the ravenous wolves. 

“ Should I kill the goat, how do I know if 
her flesh would prove sufficient to support 
me until deliverance came ? Sometimes the 
Jura is covered with snow, even after sum- 
mer has set in, and such an opportunity as 
this may not again present itself Besides, 
an attack by the wolves is doubtful; and 
then we can descend the mountain in a 
sledge very rapidly. A sledge I that word 
turned the scale. 

“ I sprang up immediately, and commenced 
preparations for our departure. I picked out 


154 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


the best wood I could find. In a short time 
I had constructed a sledge firm and large 
enough toi carry myself and Blanchette. 
Then, too, I understand how to steer it. I 
will bind Blanchette’s feet together, and 
fasten her on behind me, and then I will 
venture, and, with the help of God, hope to 
reach the plain. 

^‘And now my excitement was intense; 
I felt myself agitated by a variety of feel- 
ings. I cannot, without emotion, gaze upon 
the little chalet where I have suffered so 
much, and where the ashes of my dear 
grandfather repose. I think with terror 
upon the distance which lies between this 
height and the valley. But I will not shrink 
from my resolve. If thou only, O my God, 
wilt be my shield, I will fear nothing.” 

He awoke early upon the morning of the 
2 1st of February; the cold appeared to be 
more severe than ever ; but that favored his 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. 


155 


undertaking: not a moment must be lost. 
First, he must dig a passage through the 
snow; but he could throw back the snow, 
now, into the chalet: this lightened his labor 
not a little. He set to work, and exerted 
himself with such zeal that at last he felt 
tired, and was obliged to rest : entering the 
chalet, he made a fire. 

But scarcely had the smoke risen in the 
chimney, when he heard a noise from with- 
out. His first thought was that the wolves 
had come again, and that they would now 
surely tear him in pieces. His fright did not 
last long : instead of the howling of the 
wolves, he heard distinctly human voices ; 
yes, he even heard his own name called. 
With a shout of rapture he answered; then 
arose, almost beside himself for joy, and 
worked with superhuman strength toward 
his rescuers. Now he distinguished plainer 
and still plainer the tones, and now — what 


156 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

rapture! he heard the voice of his father. 
After long moments, they had forced an 
opening through the snow. His father was 
the first to force his way through. One cry 
of joy, and the lad was folded in his arms. 

'^And your grandfather?” he cried. 

Jacques was too much overcome to answer. 
He led his father to the dairy, and throw- 
ing himself upon the grave, he wept freely. 
The poor lad tried to give a description 
of their sufferings and of his grandfather’s 
death, but he was too deeply agitated ; the 
attempt was beyond his strength. 

“Not now, my child, not now,” said his 
father deeply moved; “we must set out at 
once upon our return.” 

Meanwhile the rest of his liberators had 
pressed through — the two uncles of Jacques, 
and Pierre the servant; they all embraced the 
lad with much affection. Preparations were 
at once made for their departure. The men 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I57 

had brought with them a couple of extra pairs 
of snow-shoes : only one pair was needed. 

Pierre took care of the sledge, and Blan- 
chette was made fast upon it. The wolves 
might come if they pleased now, for they 
were well armed. Jacques’s father, laying a 
rifle upon his shoulder, and taking his son’s 
hand, said : 

“ This is not the time, my boy, to remove 
my dear father’s mortal remains. In the 
spring we will return ; then they shall be laid 
to rest in our village church-yard. But we 
will kneel beside his grave before we leave.” 

They all entered the dairy, and kneeled 
around the lowly mound. After they had 
prayed, Frangois tearfully whispered: “Fare- 
well, father; I am only following thy wish in 
removing this child as quickly as possible. 
Farewell, father: would that I once more 
could have seen thee alive.” 

All eyes were full of tears as they care- 


14 


158 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

fully closed the door of the little chalet 
The descent was rapid but laborious. Jacques, 
accustomed so long to darkness, was dazzled 
by the light of the sun and the glare of the 
snow. 

The cold was intense, but the lad bore it 
uncomplainingly, for to that he and poor 
Blanchette, who lay trembling upon the 
sledge, owed their rescue. 

They reached the foot of the mountain 
without further accident than an occasional 
sinking in the snow, and found a path which 
the villagers had, with almost incredible la- 
bor, prepared. 

“ We would have rescued you in Decem- 
ber, my son,” said his father, “ if it had only 
been cold enough; but the snow was too 
soft to attempt it. Our neighbors and friends 
have not been wanting in zeal or sympathy. 
But, within the memory of man, never have 
such masses of snow fallen. Four times 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. I59 

did we break the road, and four times was it 
filled up again.” 

“Was it impossible from the very first 
day ? ” inquired the lad. 

“ Not from the first day,” said his father ; 
“but an unfortunate accident delayed your 
rescue.” 

And now his father related to him the 
particulars of his descent from the mountain. 
His life was nearly lost by the sliding of a 
mass of snow. They had discovered him 
lying unconscious upon the brink of an 
abyss. A few steps farther they found the 
alpenstock of the old man, and the conclu- 
sion was reached that they had perished in 
the storm. For three days he lay in extreme 
danger; and when at last reason returned, 
the snow had increased to such a fearful 
depth, that the deliverance of the poor im- 
prisoned pair in the chalet could no longer 
be thought of. 


l60 BURIED IN THE SNOW. 

Jacques was welcomed with the greatest 
enthusiasm by the villagers, and the lad 
blushed as he recalled how often he had in 
his loneliness doubted their sympathy. 

Every one wanted to see the lad and 
faithful Blanchette. They overwhelmed them 
with caresses. Blanchette was served with 
the daintiest food, and stroked and fondled 
without measure. Certainly, she was the 
happiest of all the goats in the village. 

“The dear God has saved my life. To 
Him be praise and thanks and glory,” wrote 
Jacques in his journal, on the day after his 
rescue. “ It was His holy will that my dear 
grandfather should not see his family again. 
But this faithful teacher taught me to say in 
the lonely chalet, ‘ Thy will be done,’ and I 
will not murmur. God will not be angry 
if I grieve for him. Did not the blessed 
Saviour weep at the grave of his friend ? 

“And now, O my God, grant that I may 


BURIED IN THE SNOW. l6l 

never forget the instructions of my dear, 
beloved grandfather ; but that I may follow 
his example, walking ever firmly and stead- 
fastly in his most holy faith, so that I may 
meet him in heaven, if I should be so blessed 
as to be received into Thy glorious kingdom. 
Amen!” 


“ l/ust gc in ik ]|prd formr : for in 
ilic ]|pr(I ^ektiaJt fe eotrlastinj stenjih.” 



14 


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